


our time is running out

by schmetterlinq



Category: Infinite (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2097840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schmetterlinq/pseuds/schmetterlinq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sungyeol's neighbourhood isn't much, but it's home, and he'll do everything he can to keep it safe. He and his carefully chosen gang have spent most of their lives protecting it, but now someone wants to hit him and those closest to him where they're most vulnerable. </p><p>AU inspired by the mv for 'Back.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was obsessed with [the 'Back' mv](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YiiqHq_kNnU) when it first came out and this fic ended up happening. 
> 
> This was my first time writing anything with a plot for this fandom and it was originally supposed to be a one-shot - except I got very carried away so now it's three chapters. Oh and also it took a million years to finish. Sorry about that.
> 
> Massive massive thank you to Sophie and Alicia for beta'ing, to Jamie for coming up with the 'myunggyu get distracted by each other and forget Gyu's sister' plot line and allowing me to use it here, and to everyone who was so encouraging about this fic. Title is from the Muse song of the same name.
> 
> Why is Sungyeol the gang leader, not Sunggyu? It's because of [this scene in the mv](http://38.media.tumblr.com/c48e8d9716a0384c8c331ff8cecbfb88/tumblr_n90qoujAqG1qm0lreo1_500.gif) where he just looks like the boss of everybody. And because I love Sungyeol. 
> 
> Warnings: graphic depictions of violence and quite a lot of blood, descriptions of consensual sex work, sex, language, mentions of child abuse/neglect and alcoholism, descriptions of a teenage girl being placed in some pretty frightening and dangerous situations (but not actually getting hurt; nothing really worse than what's in the mv). SPOILER - everyone's ok in the end even if they go through some shit.
> 
> Author's note: This fic is about members of a gang. Except it's not, at all, because I'm an upper-middle-class white girl who has literally no experience of gang culture whatsoever, and this is based on a kpop music video made by people with literally no experience of gang culture whatsoever. When I first started writing this I considered doing research to try and make it 'accurate', but I decided that there was no way I could ever make it feel true to life, and that a fanfic based on a kpop mv may not be the best place to write about that stuff. So think of this as not only an AU where the Infinite members are a gang, but also an AU where none of the real gangs in the world exist and gang culture is entirely different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: language, mentions of child abuse/neglect and alcoholism, sex.

 

Sungyeol senses it the night before it happens. He's so in tune with the city after all these years: the networks of electric wires are like a second set of nerves. He can tell there's something different in the air, a threat.

He can't sleep. He leans his forehead against the window pane, the glass cool against his hot, sweaty skin. It is summer, and everything is sweltering. From up here, the top floor of their building, he can see much of his neighbourhood: pale concrete apartment blocks, the bus stop on the corner with the smashed glass, the soccer pitch with the chain-link fence. Everything quivers before his eyes in the heat. It seems peaceful: no people on the streets, no sounds except the steady rhythm of cars passing on the roads nearby.

“What are you doing?”

Sungyeol glances round to the source of the voice: Woohyun, sitting up in their bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Jureumie, sleeping on top of the sheets, stirs and meows as Woohyun moves.

Sungyeol shrugs and goes back to looking out of the window, scanning the streets for any sign of something amiss.

“It's the middle of the night, why are you up?”

“Something's wrong,” Sungyeol says.

“What?” Woohyun sounds curious, but sleepy.

“I'm not sure. I just feel it.”

On the street below, a group of boys come into view, out late, kicking an empty can between them.

“Come back to bed,” Woohyun says.

Sungyeol grunts and turns around again. Woohyun is pulling back the covers, the neon lights from outside dappling his naked body blue and green. Sungyeol swallows. Really he would love nothing more than to get into bed with Woohyun, feel the other man's damp skin against his own, smell the scent of his hair. But he knows he can't sleep like this, can't rest. He shakes his head and turns away.

Behind him, he hears Woohyun sigh and roll over. Woohyun is still too new to this to understand, too green. _He shouldn't be part of this at all_ , a poisonous voice in Sungyeol's mind adds.

Woohyun says he loves this life, but Sungyeol knows it isn't the life he loves, it's Sungyeol himself.

He tucks thoughts of Woohyun carefully to the back of his mind, saving them for a time and place that is quieter and safer. He goes back to looking out of the window. Outside the street is once more deserted. The whine of a police siren drifts between the buildings.

 

From the moment he wakes up – in his chair by the window, with Jureumie asleep on his chest – Sungyeol is even more alert than usual, senses straining for any sign of something wrong.

He leaves Woohyun sleeping and heads to the kitchen, where he finds Hoya dozing at the table. Hoya doesn't live with them, not really, but he doesn't really have anywhere else to live most of the time either; his father is crazy, and most of the time he thinks Hoya's part of some conspiracy to poison him, or record his thoughts, or something. They drinking coffee together – Hoya's with cream and brown sugar; Sungyeol's black and as strong as possible – with their eyes still mostly closed. Jureumie prowls around the kitchen counters as though she's keeping watch.

Hoya tells Sungyeol about what happened during the night – nothing – but it does little to put Sungyeol at ease. Jureumie comes and stands beside him at the sink as he rinses the coffee pot, and he rubs her large ears absently with a soapy hand.

Hoya heads to bed just as Woohyun emerges, in sweatpants and one of Sungyeol's t-shirts. He wraps his arms around Sungyeol's waist and kisses him on the back of the neck, so gently. Sometimes Woohyun is so soft and sincere that it makes Sungyeol nervous. He's always been much more comfortable with bravado; in the realm of jokes or threats, sometimes both at the same time. He knows how to run the neighbourhood, lead the gang; he can make Dongwoo laugh and Hoya smirk and Sunggyu try to hit him; he can play for hours with Myungsoo, poking him and trying to bite his fingers, until Myungsoo is helpless with laughter; he can flatter Sungjong into not killing them all. But still, after over a year, he doesn't always know how to respond to the way Woohyun touches him.

The embrace is soothing, though. Somehow Woohyun can make Sungyeol anxious and calm him down all at once. Even at the start, when Sungyeol had still been kidding himself that his thing with Woohyun was just about sex, the best part had been simply the feeling of Woohyun at his side. Woohyun's large hand resting on the back of his neck. Woohyun's chin perched on his shoulder. Woohyun's head in his lap as they lay out on the soccer pitch in the spring, when the weather was warm and balmy; his chest solid, his heart beat steady under Sungyeol's fingers. Dongwoo had kept smiling over at them, and when Woohyun and Hoya both got up to kick a ball about with some of the neighbourhood kids, he leaned over to Sungyeol and said quietly, “You really like him, don't you?”

Sungyeol didn't know what to say to that. He just shrugged at Dongwoo like he couldn't hear, and ran into the heart of the soccer game, whooping; tripped Hoya, stole the ball and nudged it between the rusty old goal posts. He did a lap of the pitch with his arms in the air, cheering, “ _Goooooooaaaaaaallll!_ ”, kicking up his legs like a gazelle. The kids laughed and protested and chased him. Hoya was cursing and Woohyun was laughing too, his eyes squinted into little half moons.

Dongwoo was right, though; he can always read people. Woohyun feels good. He feels good right now, pressed up against Sungyeol's back. His forehead rests between Sungyeol's shoulder blades, his bangs tickling the skin just above the collar of Sungyeol's shirt.

He makes Sungyeol feel good enough that he can turn around in Woohyun's arms, grin and ask, “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” Woohyun smiles, big enough for the dimples to appear in his cheeks. Sungyeol pokes at them, making Woohyun chuckle.

“You okay?” Woohyun asks.

“Yeah,” Sungyeol says. Some of the foreboding comes back as he does, but he does his best to push it away, because he knows Woohyun doesn't understand. “Yeah, I'm okay.”

 

Dongwoo drops in later that morning, as he always does during his sweep of their territory. He collects cash for payments from anything they've sold off, and supplies for anyone in need: food, medicines, tools, money. This neighbourhood might be a shit hole, but it's where Sungyeol grew up, and as far as he's concerned that makes everyone who lives here family. Family doesn't go without.

Dongwoo usually goes to see his mother at the end of his trip round the neighbourhood. She looks just like her son, and they share the same loud laugh. As he checks through everything Dongwoo needs, Sungyeol is suddenly afraid that his bad feeling has something to do with her. Her health isn't good these days, even though they all expected her to pick up once the weather became warm. He slips some extra food into the bags Dongwoo takes for her – he knows Dongwoo would tell him the food should go to someone else, but fear has settled in his stomach now and it's the only thing he can think of to do.

Dongwoo heads off, surfing the pavement on his skateboard. It's still early, but the heat of the day is already beginning to settle over the city like a great glass dome, making the air shimmer. Woohyun is getting the fans they have out of the cupboards, setting them up around the main room. Sungyeol makes more coffee.

“You'll give yourself a heart attack drinking so much caffeine,” says Sungjong, their youngest and their problem solver (Sungjong objects to the word 'killer'), appearing from the bedroom he shares with Hoya. He is only half dressed, in just his black jeans and the silver cross he always wears around his neck, but – of course – his gun is already strapped to his hip.

Sungyeol flips him off. He knows Sungjong well enough that for him, this is safe.

“Sleep well, Sungjong?” Woohyun asks.

“Until Lee Howon came crashing in and woke me up,” Sungjong says, with a long-suffering sigh. He tugs open the fridge door with his tattooed right hand, the words 'Love God' dark against his pale skin.

“Sunggyu hyung will be back today, won't he?” Sungjong says.

“Mm,” Sungyeol hums, distracted by the steady drips of black coffee.

Sungjong and Woohyun share a glance towards the door of the box room, where the gang's second youngest, and Sunggyu's lover, Myungsoo, is still sleeping.

Sunggyu is the oldest of all of them, and Sungyeol's most trusted go-between for negotiating with other gangs. It took Sungyeol some time to trust Sunggyu in the beginning, because the other man was so skilled at getting along with even those Sungyeol considers the scum of the earth: murderers, rapists, human traffickers; cooks and dealers of meth and krokodil, all the worst kind of shit that Sungyeol will never allow his members to touch or for anyone to bring into his neighbourhood; men who had no qualms about using anyone, even women or children, to make themselves money. Plus, Sunggyu is older. Dongwoo is too of course, but he's been there since the beginning, back when Sungyeol was just a weed dealer on a street corner. Sungyeol was suspicious that an older man who wanted to join an established gang would merely be waiting for his opportunity to take over.

It had helped that the rest of the gang had always trusted Sunggyu: especially Dongwoo, the smartest judge of character that Sungyeol has ever met, and Myungsoo, who is usually cautious about people but warmed to Sunggyu from the beginning.

But the real reason for Sungyeol's change of heart was hearing Sunggyu talk about his family, and meeting Sungyeon, Sunggyu's little sister: “The baby,” as Sunggyu always called her. He'd introduced her that way when Sungyeol first met her years ago – “and that over there is the baby,” jerking a thumb towards the little girl in the too-long school skirt who had been standing shyly in the door, but now looked up in childish outrage at his words: “I'm not a baby! I'm eight!” Sunggyu had laughed and said, “See, just a baby.”

Sunggyu and Sungyeon's father gambled, and their mother watched TV and drank all day. Sunggyu had more or less raised himself. He stopped going to school at eleven and started hanging around gangs, looking to earn money for food and other necessities his parents rarely bought. It was around the same time that his mother accidentally got pregnant again – maybe by his father, maybe by someone else – and Sungyeon came along. Sunggyu had always been adamant he didn't want her to end up like him. “She's smart, she's not like me,” he'd say. “She can make something of herself.”

No-one who had seen Sunggyu talk about Sungyeon could go on suspecting he might be like the kind of men he was dealt with – men who would have shot a young girl as soon as look at her if she wasn't useful to them, and done far worse if she could make them cash. Sunggyu and Sungyeon are both family now. Sungyeol trusts Sunggyu to handle all the gang's business with other gangs, buying and selling and negotiating territory.

Sungyeon is fourteen now, quite the little lady. She's often around at the weekends or in the school holidays, as home is hardly a friendly place. Sungyeol remembers helping her tie her shoes, and going over math homework with her in his little kitchen. He'd draw big question marks and write 'What?' in pencil by difficult problems in her textbook, making her laugh as she scrambled to erase it.

It was Dongwoo who Sungyeon came to when she started her period; Sungjong who taught her how to paint her nails and put on mascara. Hoya helped her with soccer practice when she wanted to try out for the team with her friends and was almost as proud as Sunggyu when she made it. Myungsoo walks her to school in the rain, buys her ice-cream; cuddled and encouraged her through a few very tame dates with a boy in her class.

Whenever Sunggyu goes out of the neighbourhood, as he often does, everyone is always especially careful to keep one eye on Sungyeon.

Sunggyu would never admit it to Sungyeon, who he loves to tease, but she is the apple of his eye. The whole gang gets frequent updates about Sungyeon's grades at school, her soccer, how well she plays the piano and how her music teacher says she's his star pupil, from her glowing older brother. Sungyeol and Hoya laugh at him sometimes and accuse him of acting like a dad, but Sunggyu just smiles.

Sunggyu has always insisted that Sungyeon isn't involved in anything the gang does. Respectful of his wishes, everyone makes sure Sungyeon doesn't overhear too much about their activities; doesn't know exactly what her older brother does to supplement the income lost to their father's gambling and their mother's soju.

“Heading over to Sinchon later, Sungjongie?” Woohyun asks, and Sungyeol snaps back into the room, to Sungjong snarling: “Don't – call me Sungjongie.” Then he composes himself and adds, as if nothing has happened: “Yes. Selling. Business never stops, you know.”

Normally Sungyeol would laugh about how very Sungjong this response is, but instead he says, “The air feels weird today.“Don't get in trouble.”

“Oh, you know me,” Sungjong says, smiling. He plucks at the cross around his neck with his tattooed hand, lifts it to his mouth, kisses it. “I never get in trouble.”

 

*

 

A bunch of boys, young enough to still be in school if their parents would only send them, are cycling up and down the road, turning big loops at each end and coming back again, doing little bunny hops and 360s. They all know Sunggyu, and call out to him as he turns the corner.

“Yah, speak formally,” Sunggyu admonishes them.

They groan, but switch their language: “Did you have a good trip, hyung?”

The kids on his street always know when he's been away. They know far too much for their age, in Sunggyu's opinion. He nods yes.

The boys cluster round. All their bikes are old and rusty, many too small for their owners' gangly legs. “Did you bring us anything, hyung?”

“Yah, why would I bring anything for you lot? Get lost.”

“Sungyeol hyung always brings us stuff!” they whine.

“Well, I'm not Sungyeol, and it's because of him you're all so spoilt.”

“Hyung!” they chorus in protest.

“Hyung,” one boy calls, “Umma wants more of that tea you brought back from Daegu last time. She says it's better than the stuff Dongwoo hyung usually brings.”

“Your umma can go get her own tea from Daegu. I'm not a delivery service.”

“My umma can't walk!” the kid retorts.

“Then she can send you.” Sunggyu knocks the kid's snapback off his head, chuckling when the kid yells in protest. “Write down the name of the tea your umma liked and next time hyung is in Daegu I'll remember it, okay?”

The kid grins.

“Now all of you get out of my way.” Sunggyu shoves between their bikes and they scatter like birds, squealing.

Sunggyu heads on his way, feeling buoyant in spite of the intense heat pressing down on the city. His trip had gone well: Donghee hyung had promised to introduce him to some very affluent people and it had worked out even better than Sunggyu could have hoped. Now he is back in Seoul, back to his friends, and to Sungyeon.

Last time Sunggyu had seen Sungyeon, at the end of the previous week, she had been preparing to go on yet another date with that awful boy in her class. When she had first come home and announced that “Jihoon” wanted to take her out, Sunggyu had been all set to refuse – but Dongwoo and Woohyun insisted dating was a normal part of growing up, so he grudgingly agreed.

Okay, so he may have had Hoya watch their first date from across the road in his car, with instructions to break this Jihoon's arms if anything untoward went down. But he was just keeping his little sister safe.

Last week, Jihoon had planned to take Sungyeon to the cinema, and she was terribly excited, flying up to her room as soon as she got home from school and spending at least two hours getting ready. She emerged in a black dress, with a tangle of red beads around her neck and wobbly lines of eyeliner across her eyelids. Her hair was back-combed wildly and knotted up in a messy half-ponytail.

“That's far too much make-up, young lady,” Sunggyu said as soon as he saw her.

“Oppa,” she whined. “It's the same as I wore last time I went out with Jihoon.”

“Hmm.” Sunggyu tugged at her messy bangs. “And what have you done to your hair, huh? It looks like a bird's nest.”

Sungyeon glared at him, cheeks flushing pink, and jerked away.

“You look pretty, Sungyeon-ah,” said Myungsoo, who had been sitting quietly on the sofa, head buried in some manhwa or another.

Sungyeon smiled at him gratefully and plopped down beside him. “Are you still driving me to the cinema, Myungsoo oppa?”

“Soon, honey.” Myungsoo's attention was already back on his manhwa.

“Yeah, soon, so just enough time to fix your hair,” Sunggyu teased, scrubbing his hand in Sungyeon's ponytail, messing it up. The look of adolescent outrage she gave him made him laugh.

She slapped at his leg ineffectually, before struggling up off the couch and rushing to the bathroom. “It took me nearly half an hour to do my – _oppa!_ ” she wailed as she saw herself in the mirror. “You ruined it!”

Sunggyu came up behind her. “Such a long time! I guess Jihoon really loves bird's nests?” He messed at her hair again with both hands.

“I hate you!” she shrieked, flushing bright red, shoving him away and slamming the bathroom door, locking it tightly.

Still chuckling, Sunggyu went to sit beside Myungsoo on the couch. The younger man looked up immediately, tucking one finger in his book to keep his place. His large eyes were bright with fondness, and Sunggyu felt a pinch of regret that he had to be away for most of the coming week.

“You'll keep an eye on her when I'm gone?” he asked, knowing he didn't need to.

“Always,” Myungsoo said, as though it was as obvious as breathing.

When Sunggyu headed off about half an hour later, Sungyeon was still in the bathroom. She didn't answer when he called goodbye. “Madam appears to be sulking,” he said, pulling a face at Myungsoo.

 

The old building where Sungyeol lives looms at the end of the street. It's a relief to step into the shade of the building. Sunggyu fishes in his pocket for his keys and unlocks the metal gate over the door, then the door itself, letting himself inside. Most of the flats in this old building are empty these days, so it's not hard to make sure the few other people who do live there always lock up when they go in or out.

Sungyeol's HQ is on the top floor, and the elevator's been broken for years. Sunggyu goes for the stairs. Maybe this weekend he should take Sungyeon out, he thinks as he heads on towards the top floor, just the two of them. She's always with her school friends these days or that Jihoon; she never seems to want to hang out with her older brother any more. Still, that's for later; now he has business to attend to. And also there's Myungsoo; he has to see Myungsoo.

The top floor is almost as hot as the streets, but at least Woohyun has set up fans. As Sunggyu lets himself in, a welcome draft hits him, cooling the sweat on his skin a little.

A moment later, he is almost bowled over by a sturdy dark shape rushing into his arms.

Myungsoo is always enthusiastic in his affection, sometimes to the point of it becoming inappropriate. For a long time, Sunggyu was very uncomfortable with anything public, and often Myungsoo would end up squirming unhappily beside him, sitting on his hands to stop himself from instinctively touching Sunggyu.

These days, Sunggyu's a bit more mellow. Maybe he's gone soft in his old age (“You've always been old,” he hears Sungjong's voice say in his head) or maybe... maybe he's just really, really soft for this kid. Either way, even in the heat, Myungsoo diving into his arms, fisting his t-shirt, burying his face into Sunggyu's neck so deep Sunggyu can feel the flicker of his eyelashes, feels good after a week apart, and he wraps his arms around the younger man's hips.

There's a wolf whistle and Sunggyu pulls away to glare at everyone. Hoya is on the sofa in his dressing gown and glasses, smirking.

Woohyun is beaming. Woohyun loves any and all displays of affection.

Sungyeol looks serious. In fact, if he wasn't looking right at him, Sunggyu would wonder if Sungyeol had even noticed he was back. Normally, Sungyeol would bellow “Kim Sunggyu!” They'd play-fight and scuffle and then within seconds Sungyeol would be dragging Sunggyu to sit down and tell him everything about his trip. But today Sungyeol just stays sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, Jureumie in his lap, lips pressed together.

Sungyeol lets the others greet Sunggyu first – Woohyun embracing him (rather awkwardly, around Myungsoo, who is still clinging like a limpet to Sunggyu's side), Hoya slapping him on the back – before getting up and coming over. “Good to have you back,” he says, one hand on Sunggyu's shoulder.

“Is everything – okay?” Sunggyu asks, confused.

Sungyeol breathes out through his nose, and then smiles, although it's not like his usual broad grin; it doesn't reach his eyes. “Good to have you back,” he says again, and embraces Sunggyu.

Even after all these years, Sungyeol is often difficult to work out. On the face of things he's very extroverted, a loud voice and a loud laugh, boisterous when drunk, easy with back slaps or arms round the shoulders. But there's a whole other part of him that is always hidden, like the side of the moon that faces away from the earth and looks out into space. Sunggyu often doesn't know what Sungyeol is really thinking or feeling, whether he's glad or disappointed by something, whether he's angry or just cold. This is the part of Sungyeol that is highly intuitive, in tune with the city, but also makes him prone to moods.

Still, Sunggyu had a successful trip, everyone is here, and the city is quiet, half-asleep in the heat.

Sunggyu drops his bag on the table. “Let's talk,” he says, and Sungyeol nods.

 

Dongwoo returns in the early afternoon. “Fancy seeing you here!” he says, grinning, hugging Sunggyu from behind.

Sunggyu and Sungyeol have papers strewn across the kitchen table. The men Sunggyu met with in Busan have a nice little scheme smuggling designer clothes in from Japan. They've been keeping it to themselves so far, but now they're willing to bring Sungyeol's men in, move more stock and give them a percentage to sell themselves, as long as they can arrange moving the goods up to Seoul. Sungyeol usually moves anything he needs to through the subway tunnels in Seoul, but of course that won't work this time.

Sungyeol is tracing a map with one long finger, following the train line up from Busan to Seoul, lips moving rapidly. He still seems distracted – he keeps losing the railway, having to search for it again.

“What's going on?” Sunggyu asks Dongwoo softly, nodding to Sungyeol.

Dongwoo shrugs. “He's been off all day. It's just him. It'll pass.”

“How's mama Jang today?” Woohyun asks.

“Fine, fine,” Dongwoo says happily, squeezing himself onto the sofa next to Hoya.

Sungyeol glances up at that – Sunggyu hadn't realised he was even listening – then sighs, and stretches. “I think we can work something out, Sunggyu,” he says – and Sunggyu has learned long ago not to expect Sungyeol to speak to him formally, especially not when Sungyeol is their leader, so he doesn't react. “Hoya, we need to talk about transportation.”

“Whenever you want,” Hoya says.

Sungyeol is still shifting in his seat, as though there's a weight pressing down on him, even heavier than the heat. Woohyun's face is creased with concern. He goes over and tries to rub Sungyeol's shoulders, but Sungyeol bats him away and Woohyun retreats, looking wounded.

Sunggyu is still half-interested in what's going on with Sungyeol, but now they're done with business, his mind has turned to more pressing matters. In just a couple of hours Sungyeon will be out of school, and Myungsoo will have to be there to meet her. Myungsoo, who slipped away a little while ago into the tiny closet room where he sleeps, with a meaningful look back at Sunggyu.

Sunggyu stands up, adjusting the front of his pants, and heads after Myungsoo.

 

“H-hyung...”

Myungsoo. Naked, pale skin blotched with pink, body heavy and so so hot in Sunggyu's lap, rubbing against Sunggyu, his hips shaking as though they hurt, letting out tiny bitten-off moans and mewls whenever Sunggyu moves.

Sunggyu feels like he's underwater, drunk on the scent of salt on Myungsoo's skin, the wet wet kisses, the agonising friction of Myungsoo in his lap. It's so hot in the tiny room, the air thick and heady. Sunggyu doesn't know how he lasted a week without this. He needs Myungsoo, needs him so bad, but he can't bring himself to pull away even for a second, even now it's becoming unbearable. It must have taken at least half an hour to take off Myungsoo's clothes and Sunggyu's pants because they just couldn't – stop – long enough.

Myungsoo is tugging at Sunggyu's t-shirt, but he's weak now, fingers shaking. After a few seconds of fumbling he gives up and kisses Sunggyu again, and Sunggyu forgets about taking off any more of his clothes and gets lost in Myungsoo's raspberry-pink mouth again, the sloppy kissing and slide of Myungsoo's tongue that makes his toes curl. Myungsoo pushes down into Sunggyu's lap, and with only his boxers between them now, Sunggyu can feel the whole length of Myungsoo's cock rub against his own; the wetness from Myungsoo leaking all over himself, all over Sunggyu's boxers and stomach. His eyes roll back and he groans. Myungsoo is whimpering.

There's a sudden buzz of plastic vibrating against the concrete floor, and a song fills the air: “I'm genie for you boy! I'm genie for your wish!”

Myungsoo hisses and Sunggyu laughs. “Your phone?”

“My alarm.” Myungsoo's voice is a pained little moan. He drags himself out of Sunggyu's lap and crawls across the room to find his phone in the discarded tangle of clothes. Sunggyu takes the opportunity to thoroughly enjoy watching Myungsoo on his hands and knees crawling away from him – the movement of the boy's surprisingly strong thighs, his cock bobbing between his legs, his ass bouncing a little as he moves, the occasional glimpse of his hole. Sunggyu has to grip himself through his boxers to calm down.

Myungsoo finds his phone, switches it off, and sighs. “I – I need to get ready to go get Sungyeon.”

“Fuck,” Sunggyu mutters, and Myungsoo makes a small unhappy noise in agreement.

Sunggyu glances at his watch. It's just over an hour before Sungyeon gets out of school and the walk there is only ten minutes if you do it quickly. Of course it's important for Myungsoo to be on time, he thinks – but it's been a week. A week without his Myungsoo and they've hardly even started yet. Myungsoo is still crouching in front of him, head hanging in disappointment. Sunggyu can see the little twitches of arousal still rushing through him, as though Myungsoo's body is begging him to put Myungsoo out of his misery.

“You've got over an hour,” he says, voice coming out husky. “You can just throw some clothes on and run.”

Myungsoo shakes his head. “I need to shower, hyung.”

“Shower can wait. You'll just sweat again outside,” Sunggyu mumbles, shuffling along the futon towards Myungsoo and sliding his arms around the younger man's waist.

Myungsoo's breath hitches. “I – I really do need to get ready –” Sunggyu can almost hear him trying to battle his desire away, but he's not doing a very good job; he's already practically grinding back against Sunggyu's cock again.

Sunggyu kisses Myungsoo's shoulders. “I want you,” he confesses softly, hands slipping down to Myungsoo's thick thighs, digging into the soft skin of his inner legs.

Myungsoo is shaking. “Hyung, please,” he moans, and he probably intends to say, “Hyung, please don't, I need to get ready,” but everything – his voice, the way his body is straining against Sunggyu's – screams, “Hyung, please, I want you too,” and Sunggyu thinks, fuck it. He scoops Myungsoo up round the waist and rolls him onto the futon. Myungsoo lets out a little yelp of surprise as he comes tumbling down on his back, Sunggyu above him. “Hyung!”

“You can go to the school later,” Sunggyu says, voice gravelly, fumbling just under the edge of the mattress for where they keep the lube. He pushes Myungsoo's thighs up and opens them, and Myungsoo gasps again.

“You're a bad older brother,” Myungsoo says breathlessly, as Sunggyu squeezes the lube onto him, revelling in the sight of it trickling down Myungsoo's flushed skin.

“I know. Now can we not talk about my sister?” Sunggyu says. He slicks more lube over his fingers and pushes two into Myungsoo straight away, and the younger man cries, “Yes, hyung!”

“Yes, that's good,” Sunggyu mumbles. “Do as hyung tells you...”

“Yes,” Myungsoo whimpers, pushing back on Sunggyu's fingers. He always loves it when Sunggyu orders him around in bed.

Sunggyu preps Myungsoo as quickly as he can, slicks himself up – trying not to come from just his own touch and the intensity with which Myungsoo is looking at him, eyes huge and hungry, knees up against his stomach all ready for Sunggyu – and thrusts in.

It's bliss; right away it's bliss. It always is; no-one can make Sunggyu feel like Myungsoo makes him feel. Myungsoo's thighs clench around Sunggyu's hips in a tight kind of embrace, and Sunggyu fucks him frantically, messily, rhythm stuttering and irregular. Blood is roaring in his head, and through the colours pressing at the edge of his vision and the intense heat of the room, he can see Myungsoo's eyes, shining up at him with adoration like big black stars. Suddenly overcome with an intense tenderness, he cups the younger man's face, smooths his thumb down the baby-soft skin of Myungsoo's cheek.

Myungsoo comes quickly, body coming up off the futon in an intense arch, tight as a bow, thighs quivering violently on either side of Sunggyu's hips. The clenching around Sunggyu's cock is heavenly, and fuck, Sunggyu loves this boy. He comes too, with a long groan, tossing his head back and biting his lip, emptying himself inside Myungsoo and making the younger man whimper.

When his head clears, Myungsoo is gazing up at him, eyes soft and pupils blown, lips quirked in a tiny, tired half-smile.

Exhausted, Sunggyu slips out carefully and rolls onto his back, pulling Myungsoo with him. Myungsoo, pliant as a rag doll, sprawls onto Sunggyu's chest, tucking his head under Sunggyu's chin.

Sunggyu sometimes thinks he can't remember a time when he wasn't somehow in danger – but like this, with Myungsoo, is often the closest he comes to feeling safe. He strokes shapeless patterns on Myungsoo's back, and Myungsoo lets out a tiny sound close to a purr and snuggles even closer. In spite of the heat, in spite of his still-heaving chest, Myungsoo's warm weight feels good, like a blanket. He can feel the tension starting to leave the other man and suspects Myungsoo is dozing off. Sunggyu sighs into Myungsoo's hair, pulls him closer and closes his own eyes.

 

*

 

“Do you think we should knock on the door and tell them what time it is?” Woohyun asks.

“If you want to go in there, be my guest. You can count me out,” says Sungjong, who arrived back about an hour ago, from his perch on the kitchen counter. Hoya laughs loudly, although it isn't really that funny.

The air in the flat is even thicker now that it's late afternoon. Jureumie leapt off Sungyeol's lap a while ago, uncomfortable with his hands on her skin, and disappeared under the sofa. Woohyun has taken his shirt off, and Sungyeol isn't too distracted by his worries to appreciate the view – golden-brown skin, hard muscles, the soft trail of hair on Woohyun's lower stomach.

There's a sudden loud “Fuck!” from Myungsoo's room, and next second Myungsoo hurtles out of it.

Hoya, Dongwoo and Woohyun are all smothering laughter behind their hands. And it's funny; it's really funny. Myungsoo's hair is a frizzy shock on his head and there's a purple, very visible love-bite just below his jaw. Normally Sungyeol would be delighted. But today he can only manage a smile.

“I'm late to get Sungyeon,” Myungsoo gabbles to nobody in particular, making for the sink and slurping some water. He barges into Sungjong as he does. “Sorry, sorry!”

Sungjong raises one eyebrow, coolly. It's only because it's Myungsoo that he hasn't lashed out; if anyone else crashed into him like that, they'd already be on their back on the floor.

“Your t-shirt's inside out,” Sungjong tells Myungsoo.

Dongwoo lets out a tiny yelp of laughter and tries to disguise it as a cough.

Face flushing, Myungsoo struggles out of his shirt right there in the kitchen and pulls it right way out. His chest and back are covered in more love bites, scratches, bruises the shape of Sunggyu's fingertips.

“Please!” says Sungjong. “We've already had to listen to you get fucked in there for over an hour, we don't need you to show off the damage as well.”

Myungsoo goes from pink to scarlet. There's a “Yah!” from the bedroom, Sunggyu's way of telling Sungjong to leave what is his alone.

Normally Sungyeol would join in, but he's too distracted. He and Hoya are supposed to be discussing moving goods up from Busan to Seoul, but he can't concentrate. The feeling that something is wrong has only been increasing all day, as though the room has been slowly filling with concrete.

Myungsoo rushes out. Dongwoo and Woohyun collapse in helpless laughter as soon as he does and tumble down onto the sofa together.

“Yah,” Sunggyu says again, appearing from the bedroom, dressed again. He looks far better than Myungsoo did, although his hair is a mess and his lips are swollen.

Hoya touches Sungyeol's elbow. “Do you think – ?”

Sungyeol waves him off. “Talk about this later.” Hoya looks confused, and Sungyeol adds, “It's so hot,” which is a lie, the heat doesn't bother Sungyeol any more than it bothers the city skyscrapers. Hoya looks convinced though, and gets up from the table.

Everything gets quiet in the flat. Hoya, Sungjong and Sunggyu settle down to play cards. Woohyun is absently toying with the longer strands of Dongwoo's hair, tying them into tiny braids. _Everything is fine._ Sungyeol closes his eyes, tries to shake off his sense of dread.

 

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he's aware of is the sound of feet pounding up the stairs. Sungyeol's entire body is on alert instantly, every nerve stretching to sense; he springs out of his chair so quickly the blood rushes to his head, thundering in his ears like the trains of Seoul's subway. Hoya is getting to his feet too, saying, “What the hell –?” and then the doors of the apartment burst open, and Myungsoo collapses through them.

 _Myungsoo._ Sungyeol is across the room before he even realises it. The others are there too, right beside him, all of them. Sungyeol holds Myungsoo's arms and lifts him up, and Dongwoo is helping, supporting Myungsoo's head.

Myungsoo looks terrible. His face, flushed when he left the flat, is damp and deathly white, the love-bite an ugly brown-yellow stain on his skin. He is panting for breath, winded, as though he's been running for streets and streets. He tries to speak but chokes on the words.

“Get him some water!” Sungyeol orders, trying to stamp on his panic. Woohyun rushes off.

“Hyung,” Myungsoo manages. “Sunggyu – hyung –”

“I'm here.” Sunggyu pushes through the others. But as soon as Myungsoo sees him, his face crumples painfully. He manages another, “Hyung –” and then a sob rips through any voice he has left.

Woohyun comes barging back between the gathered men, a slopping tumbler in his hand, shouting, “Water, water, let me through, he needs water!” He kneels in front of Myungsoo and holds the tumbler to the younger man's lips, but Myungsoo is shaking too much to drink, his teeth clinking on the glass, so Woohyun takes it away again. He meets Sungyeol's gaze as he does, and Sungyeol sees the same fear he's feeling standing out stark in Woohyun's eyes.

“It's okay,” Dongwoo is reassuring Myungsoo, rubbing gentle circles on the boy's back. “Whatever it is, we'll fix it, it's okay.”

“It's not – not okay,” Myungsoo rasps. He's staring at Sunggyu. “I tried, hyung – tried to stop them – they took her – they took –”

“Who?” Sunggyu asks, gripping Myungsoo's arm, “They took who?” and Sungyeol groans, because he already knows.

“S-s-sungyeon,” Myungsoo breathes, the words sounding like agony, “They took – Sungyeon.”

Sungyeol's mind is already spinning, searching for something, anything. Sungyeon. He knew – but he didn't know. He knew something was coming, but he never imagined this. Not this. _Not her. Sungyeon._

Around him, the faces of the other members are ashen. Sunggyu is still kneeling in front of Myungsoo and gripping his arm. He looks as though someone has ripped his heart out of his chest and is holding it, bleeding, in front of his face.

“Sungyeon,” Sunggyu croaks.

Myungsoo is sobbing. Dongwoo and Woohyun are both holding him now, but he doesn't even seem to notice them; he's still staring straight at Sunggyu.

Looking at them all makes Sungyeol want to tear the clouds out of the sky and bring them crashing to the earth. Whoever has done this, whoever has touched his family – he will bring the wrath of God down on them, the wrath of a thousand gods, until they regret every day of their filthy lives, regret everything from the moment their whore mothers got knocked up, regret everything from the beginning of the universe –

“Why?” Dongwoo's voice sounds horribly loud, horribly ordinary in the shocked silence. “Why would someone take her? How would they know –?”

“They wouldn't have to know anything.” This is Sungjong. “It might not be anything to do with us. There's always plenty of guys looking out for girls to –”

Sunggyu lets out a soft groan and Sungjong falls silent, looking scared – scared, maybe for the first time in all the years Sungyeol's known him.

But Myungsoo is shaking his head. “They dropped this,” he says, and pulls a small box out of the pocket of his shorts. Hoya rips it open and there's a mobile phone and a charger inside.

“Check it,” Sungyeol orders, and Hoya does, but there's nothing; it's blank.

“It's so they can contact us,” he says.

“But this is good,” Sungjong says. “At least it wasn't trafficking or –”

“No,” Sunggyu says, surprising everyone. His voice sounds dreadful, like it's echoing down a tunnel. “This is bad. This means they know who she is. How would they know? I always made sure no-one ever knew – how would they know?”

There's a silence.

“Myungsoo,” Sungyeol says, “You've been taking Sungyeon to and from school the past week; have you noticed anything weird? Anyone following you, hanging around the school; has she said anything?”

Myungsoo swallows. His eyes are bloodshot, eyelashes clumped and sticking together. “I – I don't know – I didn't notice –”

Suddenly Sunggyu erupts. He lunges at Myungsoo and seizes his shoulders. “What the fuck do you mean you didn't notice?” He starts shaking Myungsoo violently: “You're supposed to notice! I trust you to notice! What fucking use are you if you don't fucking notice?”

Sungjong and Hoya grab Sunggyu under the arms and haul him off. Myungsoo falls back against Dongwoo and Woohyun, looking stricken, mouth hanging open like a wound.

 _They're going to destroy us_ , Sungyeol thinks; whoever's done this, they'll destroy us, they'll get what they want without even trying. Sunggyu's already gone for Myungsoo; Myungsoo, who he adores. Taking Sungyeon is like taking what keeps them human, keeps them good; without her they might all rip each other apart.

“Get a hold of yourself!” Hoya is shouting at Sunggyu, and Sungyeol snaps out of it. _Hold it the fuck together_ , he tells himself.

Myungsoo is sobbing again – horrible, painful sobs that seem to rip right out of him. Dongwoo and Woohyun are rocking him, stroking his hair.

The phone rings, making everyone jump. Sunggyu comes to life again and grabs for it wildly, but Sungyeol takes it and puts it on the table, flicking it onto loudspeaker so everyone can hear. “Who is this?”

“Well, hello.” A silky male voice floats down the line. “Is this lost property?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sungyeol asks.

“Well, I've got some property of yours that I think you've lost,” says the man. There's a pause, and then they hear a soft sniffling over the phone.

Sunggyu is instantly struggling to his feet, rushing to bend over the phone. “Sungyeon? Sungyeon! Baby, is that you?”

There's another sniff, and then a second man says in the background, “Say something, you dumb bitch!” and then Sungyeon says, “Oppa?”

“Sungyeon!” Sunggyu's voice trembles.

“Oppa.” Sungyeon is crying.

Myungsoo lets out a little whimper.

“Thank God,” Sunggyu murmurs, dropping his head onto the table. “It's okay, baby, oppa's right here –”

“Oppa –” and suddenly Sungyeon's voice vanishes, and the man is back, saying, “So, something of yours, just as I thought?”

“You put her back on! You let me speak to her, you son of a bitch!” Sunggyu shouts, banging his fist on the table.

There's a sudden snigger of delight down the phone. “Oh, my. Is this one _yours_ , Kim Sunggyu?”

There's a horrible silence. “How do you know me?” Sunggyu asks eventually, voice small.

“Two years ago,” says the voice. “We were willing to share with you and your people, split the neighbourhood up. Unfortunately, your Lee Sungyeol didn't want to do business with us and he was pretty ruthless about making that clear. I believe it was you, Kim Sunggyu, that killed our former leader.”

“Fuck,” Sungyeol spits. Two years ago, there had been some drug gang trying to move into his neighbourhood, and he and his members had had to make it clear they were unwelcome. There had been some bloodshed, but it was all dealt with – Sungyeol thought it was all dealt with.

“Oh, this is delicious,” the voice on the phone is laughing.

“Your leader was dealing crystal meth to teenagers in our streets,” Sunggyu growls. “Let me speak to Sungyeon, you scum –”

“Dear, dear, temper. Your little friend here seems a bit upset to speak, and that's understandable; she's had a frightening afternoon,” says the man's voice. “My, my, isn't it just wonderful how these things work out? We were told there was a girl, but we thought she must belong to that pretty boy who walks her to school –”

“What do you mean you were told there was a girl?” Sungyeol asks. “Who told you?”

“Oh, it was a friend of yours, Sunggyu. A Shin Donghee. I'm guessing he knew she was your sister?”

“Fuck!” Sunggyu smashes his fist on the table again. “I fucking trusted that –”

“We killed him, of course,” says the man on the phone, “As soon as we had what we needed from him. Never liked snitches. But enough talk. Our new leader is perfectly willing to return our little friend here to you, unharmed and in one piece, but in return there are some – questions he'd like to ask.”

“What questions?” Sungyeol asks.

“Oh, nothing really important. He just wants to know how you're moving everything you buy and sell around the city.”

The subway tunnels, Sungyeol thinks. They've always been so, so careful to keep their use of the tunnels secret, and so far nobody's worked it out, although it's obvious when you think about it.

“We'll give you until this time tomorrow to gather all the necessary information before we call again,” says the man on the phone. “We want to be reasonable. However, you must understand that we can only wait so long – so if, after twenty-four hours, you are unwilling to co-operate, I'm afraid we won't be able to keep our little friend here in one piece. We'll start with small pieces, of course – take off, perhaps, one of her fingers after the first twenty-four hours.”

“You bastard –” Sunggyu snarls. “You fucking bastard –”

“Yes, I definitely think a finger,” says the man, ignoring Sunggyu. “Considering our little friend has this piano book with her in her bag – it would be such a shame if she couldn't play piano any more, wouldn't it?”

Sunggyu lets out a strangled roar. “I'll kill you! If you touch her I'll kill you, I swear, you fucked up, piece of shit scum! I'll rip you to pieces, you –”

“Speak to you in twenty-four hours then,” says the man on the phone. A horrible smile is audible in his voice. The next second, the dial tone sounds loudly, like a trumpet bringing the walls of their carefully-balanced world crashing down.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: discussion of (consensual) sex work, violence, m/m sex (not as graphic as in chapter 1).
> 
> Once again, I want to emphasise this is an AU in all senses of the term and definitely not supposed to be a realistic depiction of the stuff I'm writing about; I have no experience of real-life gang culture or stripping and I made the decision that an Infinite fanfic is not the place to try and write about those things in a true-to-life way, especially given that none of those things are my personal experience.

 

“No! Sungyeon!” Sunggyu grabs the phone, but the man on the other end is gone. “Fuck!” He goes to smash it against the table, but Hoya grabs his hand and pries the phone out of his fist.

“If you break it and they can't contact us –” Hoya's voice wavers a little “– They might hurt her.”

Sunggyu nods, releasing the phone. For a second he seems calm. Then he turns the nearest chair over. Dongwoo yelps in surprise and Myungsoo shrinks back with a sob.

“Get the subway maps out! What are you waiting for?” Sunggyu is shouting at Sungyeol. Next second he's in Sungyeol's face – it would be funny if not for the situation; Sunggyu is nearly a head shorter than Sungyeol and has to look up to meet the leader's eyes.“Are you going to sell her to them so you can keep control of your neighbourhood? Is that it? Huh?”

“Will you calm the fuck down!” Sungyeol barks. “Smashing shit and starting fights won't help anyone, certainly not Sungyeon.”

Sunggyu sucks in air through his nose, clenching his jaw. “You're – you're right. So. What are we going to do? You're going to give them what they want, right?”

“No,” Sungyeol says. “No, I'm not.”

“You –” Sunggyu almost explodes again, but Sungyeol grabs his shoulder: “Calm down and _listen_ to me. If we give them what they want, what's to stop them taking over the whole neighbourhood and flooding our streets with whatever the hell they want? You remember last time. If they start using the tunnels to move drugs, you don't think it'll be worse than before? You think Sungyeon will be safe, you think any of us will be safe if we let that happen? You think they won't come after us once they've got their business going here, wipe out the competition?”

His grip on Sunggyu's shoulder tightens. “We're not giving them what they want. You think that means I'm going to leave her?” _How could you think that?_ “You should know I don't leave family behind, old man.” _You should know any who touches my family has hell to pay. You should know._

Sunggyu says nothing. But his hand comes up to clasp Sungyeol's arm.

“We'll get her back.” _Nothing is more important. Nothing._ “I will personally make sure she comes back safely. I promise, Sunggyu.”

“Yeol –” Sunggyu grits out. He seems to understand, even all the things that Sungyeol didn't say. He's gripping Sungyeol's elbow so fiercely ~~now~~ it hurts.

“And when she's back I'm going to kick your ass for telling your contact about your personal life.” Sungyeol slaps Sunggyu's face gently, almost smiling, and Sunggyu ducks away. For a second everything is normal. “But Sungyeon comes first.” _Sungyeon comes before everything._

“What are we going to do?” Woohyun asks.

“Kidnap her back?” Dongwoo says, a mixture of terrified and excited.

“Something like that,” Sungyeol smiles thinly. “We need to find out where they're holding her. It could be anywhere, most likely won't be in our neighbourhood. So if anyone –”

“I know,” Sungjong says.

“What do you mean, you know?”

“I know how we can find out.”

“Not those hookers of yours again, Sungjong,” Hoya groans.

Sungjong sniffs at him. “The girls see almost everyone in this part of the city. Someone will talk about this, and when they do, one of the girls is bound to hear.”

“But they only just took her,” Hoya argues. “It could take days for anyone to talk –”

“And judging by that phone call, they've obviously been planning this for days,” Sungjong says. “Longer, probably. But even if nobody's talked yet, they'll start now, now that Sungyeon's been taken. We just need to make sure the girls know to listen out.”

“Okay,” Sungyeol says. “Okay. So we talk to the girls.”

“In person,” Sungjong says. “You know Minha likes all her business to be in person.”

“And personal,” Hoya mutters, but Sungjong ignores him.

 

*

 

Nobody has known Sungyeol for as long as Dongwoo has. Dongwoo remembers Sungyeol being the gangly kid who lived two floors below him; remembers seeing him slouchingup and down the stairs of their block in jeans torn at both knees, already much taller than Dongwoo was despite being over a year younger. Sungyeol's mother and Dongwoo's mother both used the laundry room in the basement of the building, often talked there and became friendly. When Sungyeol's mother got an evening job at a noraebang in the city centre, she asked Dongwoo's mother to watch Sungyeol for her while she was working.

For the first week, Sungyeol spent every evening at Dongwoo's flat sitting quietly on the sofa. “Do you want to watch TV, dear?” Dongwoo's mother would ask, turning it on for him, but he always seemed much more interested in looking around the room – at the threadbare carpet, the corner where damp made the wall warp and bulge, the framed print reading 'Home Sweet Home' hanging above the television. Dongwoo's noona didn't like it and said he was judging their home, but Dongwoo knew Sungyeol was just shy. He began bringing things he thought were fun and interesting to the sofa to show to Sungyeol and entertain the younger boy: a box of crayons; his noona's lip gloss; the house keys; a stuffed pig; a tape of Fly to the Sky songs; and a tattered book about dinosaurs.

Sungyeol looked politely at all the things Dongwoo brought him, but he looked and looked at the dinosaur book. He looked at the pictures of tyrannosaurs and plesiosaurs and pterosaurs, and then he looked at Dongwoo, and said “You look like a dinosaur.” To Dongwoo that sounded pretty cool, so after that they were friends.

Family, Dongwoo had learned over the years, was everything to Sungyeol. His father had been a heroin addict and walked out on the family when Sungyeol was only about a year old. Sungyeol's memories of him were dim and distant.

“How do you do that?” Sungyeol would say sometimes. “How do you just leave your family?”

Sungyeol's definition of family, however, could very easily be stretched to include those he wasn't related to by blood, and pretty quickly it included Dongwoo. They skipped school together; they got their first start in business together, selling weed on the corner of their street. Dongwoo was there when Sungyeol's mother died, when Sungyeol was only twenty-one – some of the others were around by then too ~~too~~ , but it was still Dongwoo that Sungyeol called first with the news.

The doctors said it was pneumonia, but Sungyeol disagreed. “It was this fucking neighbourhood that killed her,” he said. They were sitting on the roof of the building where Dongwoo was living then, sharing a roll-up cigarette. “She was never healthy. She never ate right when I was a kid, she'd give most of what we had to me. Her heating never worked cos the fucking landlord wouldn't fix it. She'd still be here if it wasn't for this place.”

“Do you want to leave?” Dongwoo asked. He thought about his own mother, who he adored – the taste of her cooking; the smell of her flat that reminded him of being young; her gentle hands cradling his face. He didn't think he would be able to stay in a place he believed had killed her.

Sungyeol shook his head. “Where else can I go? This is home.” He crushed the cigarette into the concrete beneath them, wincing as though it was burning his own skin. He swallowed. “But this shit will never happen again. Not on my watch.”

Only a few years later, Sungyeol was in charge of the whole neighbourhood. He was a business man first and foremost, of course – but from the start he set aside funds to help those who were most in need. He wouldn't allow any truly harmful substances onto the streets. He'd yell at the kids he saw cutting school and chase them; he made them laugh, so they adored him, and when he said, “You don't want to go to school? You want to end up like me, huh?” they'd listen to him. Within a few years, the neighbourhood was doing better than Dongwoo had ever seen it.

Sungyeol's proud of what he's done for the place, although he'd never say so because Sungyeol is the type who always thinks he could be doing more. Dongwoo knows he is though, and he tries to let Sungyeol know that he's proud of him, too.

That isn't to say things have been easy. There have been plenty of problems over the years, with the cops, or with other gangs trying to muscle in. But now, as he drives Sungyeol, Woohyun and Sungjong out to the club where Sungjong's girl Minha works, Dongwoo finds himself feeling like they were never in danger before: not really, not like this.

Sungyeol's gang is just the seven of them; they've never needed any more. They keep their heads down, only fight to defend themselves. Mostly, other larger gangs know Sungyeol is only interested in his small territory and nothing else, and leave them be.

Two years ago, they'd all thought they were only dealing with a couple of dealers looking to make some cash in an area no-one else was selling, but now it sounds as though those dealers had gone away and organised. Before they left, Sungyeol made Myungsoo talk him through everything that had happened, and Myungsoo said that he'd rounded the corner to Sungyeon's school to see at least three men pulling her into a van. (Oh, Myungsoo; Dongwoo had almost insisted on staying behind with Myungsoo; when they left the boy's eyes were still sticky and swollen from crying and he was curled up on the sofa hugging his own knees, unable to look at anybody, least of all Sunggyu.) The guys Dongwoo remembers from before had trouble organising their own supplies of drugs; no way would they have been able to orchestrate a successful kidnapping, even the kidnapping of a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl.

Dongwoo guesses they must have joined up with someother people and made themselves a larger, more competent force. He has a horrible feeling there might be far more of them now, enough to hopelessly outnumber their own small group. Sungyeol hasn't said anything, but Dongwoo keeps meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. It's twilight now; the lights of the city are gradually turning on, and they catch in Sungyeol's eyes, making them flash gold and amber like a tiger's. Dongwoo knows Sungyeol is having the same thoughts as him.

Sungjong is tapping his fingers on the gun he wears on his hip. Dongwoo can't see him, of course, facing ahead to watch the road, but he can hear the sound of Sungjong's nails on the metal: _click, click, click, click._

The streets of Seoul are filling with people, in the least amount of clothing they can get away with to keep themselves cool, drinking and celebrating the Friday evening, the end of another working week. The heat and energy of the streets seems to stop at the walls of the car; inside, it feels extremely cold. Dongwoo briefly considers switching off the air-con, but decides against it: without it, the silence would feel even louder.

The club is a windowless building on the corner of an alley. The only signs it isn't completely abandoned are the men hurrying anxiously towards it, glancing around, and disappearing through a small door at the side. Dongwoo parks the car round the corner. As soon as they step out, they can feel the pavement vibrating with the music coming from the club.

Sungyeol drapes his leather jacket around his shoulders, although it's far too hot for leather. Image is important to Sungyeol; that's why he's brought Sungjong, Dongwoo and Woohyun with him, even though it really only needs to be him and Sungjong: numbers make for a more intimidating image.

There's another reason, of course, for Woohyun in particular to be here. Really, for protection, it should be Hoya, who is strong, and smart at handling himself in scrap. But Dongwoo guesses that right now, Sungyeol wants Woohyun near him: to comfort himself with Woohyun's presence, and to reassure himself that Woohyun is still safe.

“Right.” Sungyeol sounds tired. “Jong, you want to lead the way?”

“Of course.” Sungjong lifts the cross around his neck to his mouth and kisses it. He always does that – for protection? For luck? Just out of habit? Dongwoo doesn't know; he's never asked.

They cross the road and slip into the club, which is almost like walking into the pounding heart of a factory. Pipes stick out of the damp walls and industrial music thunders so loudly it's almost deafening, and for a moment Dongwoo has to stop, to shake the buzzing out of his ears, before he can carry on. It's hot, too, the kind of heat that immediately sucks sweat from your skin.

They head up the narrow hallway and into the main room of the club. It's still early, but a few girls rotate gracefully on poles, while faceless shapes of men leer from the corners. Every so often a hand reaches out and passes money to one of the girls. In one corner, a tall woman with a bob is sullenly working at a long bar.

Sungjong leads them towards the bar and leans on it, stretching across to whisper in the bartender's ear. After a moment she mutters something in reply and disappears behind a curtain into the back. Sungjong glances over at Sungyeol and nods.

Dongwoo can't help looking around at the strong thighs, the powerful arms of the girls on the poles; their small waists, bare breasts damp with sweat. He's come here a few times over the years, with Sungjong; he knows the girls here are artists. Still, at a time like this, he can't really feel more of than a passing interest.

Sungyeol is clearly far more worried than he's letting on. He's not looking at the dancers at all, even when one girl on a nearby table hips off her thong and spreads her legs wide right in front of a gawping man's face.

Woohyun looks nervous. Dongwoo wonders if he's ever been anywhere like this before.

The bartender returns and beckons them round the bar, holding up the curtain for them to pass through. With Sungjong in the lead, they go silently.

The back room is full of mirrors, and girls looking into mirrors. Here one girl smears lipstick onto her mouth; there another glues false eyelashes to her lash line. The mirrors all reflect one another, so the room looks like an enormous hall stretching out to the horizon on all sides, full of hundreds and hundreds of girls: smearing on lipstick, gluing on false eyelashes. As the bartender leads them into the room, the mirror-hall seems to fill with hundreds of versions of themselves: hundreds of jaws set, of eyes lined with fear; infinite men searching for infinite missing Sungyeons.

The bartender motions for them to wait, and slips over to one corner of the room, where a girl in a silky white robe is combing her hair.

“Minha,” the bartender says, “You have visitors.”

Minha turns around, and her face lights up. “Sungjong!” she exclaims.

Sungjong smirks, shrugging as though to say, “Yeah, it's me.”

Minha floats across to them like a ballerina, her robe swimming around her. She takes Sungjong's face in her hands and kisses him on the mouth. Sungjong responds enthusiastically, his hands coming up to frame her waist. Minha's fingers slip down to press into Sungjong's neck. Dongwoo can see a pentagram painted on her thumb nail.

Woohyun is glancing around awkwardly. Dongwoo tries to catch his attention and give him a reassuring smile – Sungjong and Minha have been close for years – but Woohyun's eyes are darting too quickly, avoiding the long legs and exposed breasts of the othergirls in the room who are beginning to look around at them all curiously.

Minha and Sungjong part long enough for Minha to say, “It's been too long!” and then they're kissing again, Sungjong's hand slipping inside Minha's robe. Sungyeol notices too and clears his throat.

Minha pulls away from Sungjong and smiles. “Lee Sungyeol! Speak of the devil. Some of us were just saying it's been a long time since we'd seen you here – weren't we?” she adds, addressing the silent audience of girls. There's a murmur of agreement round the room.

“Minha,” Sungyeol says, nodding.

Minha steps away from Sungjong, still smiling at Sungyeol. “We never used to be able to keep you away! Said it helped you relax... Jinah's here tonight, you know. You always did like seeing Jinah.”

Sungyeol shakes his head at Minha stiffly.

Minha shrugs. “Please yourself. I suppose you must have found a new way to relax...” She casts her eye over Dongwoo and then Woohyun, and Dongwoo suspects she's guessed the situation, especially given the vein standing out in Woohyun's neck and the way his fists are clenched at his sides.

“So!” Minha's attention is back on Sungjong in an instant, and Dongwoo takes the opportunity to lay a hand on Woohyun's arm, soothingly. Woohyun jumps at the touch. Dongwoo tries smiling at him again, but Woohyun pulls away, his usually warm eyes like black ice.

“I know you didn't come to see me just because you like me, Sungjong,” Minha is saying. “I know you too well; there's something on your mind.”

Sungjong's face is instantly serious again. He explains to Minha about Sungyeon, the kidnapping and the phone call. Minha listens, nodding softly, all playfulness vanished and replaced by concern.

“I know you and the other girls hear everything in this place,” Sungjong says. “We need to know if you've heard anything, about who's planned this, about where they might have taken her. We – we _really_ need to know, Minha.”

“Of course,” Minha says, squeezing his hand. “Of course.” Letting him go, she hurries over to the watching girls, who immediately cluster round her, and starts talking to themquietly, rapidly.

“She'll handle it,” Sungjong says, sighing, rubbing the back of his neck as though it aches. “All the girls here are close; they'll get the word round the club in no time and find out if anyone's heard anything.”

“And if they haven't?” Woohyun asks. He sounds angry; Dongwoo notices he's addressing Sungyeol rather than Sungjong.

“If they haven't, then we'll deal with it,” Sungyeol says wearily.

Woohyun scowls. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means,” Sungyeol says, voice rising, “That we'll figure it out once we actually know if they've heard anything.” There's a clear note of warning in his voice that says the discussion is over. Woohyun gives him a furious look and turns to walk away, realises there's nowhere for him to go, and curses. He ends up stalking over to one of the mirrors and leaning against it. Several girls on the edge of the group are staring.

Sungyeol looks furious too. He hates anything that might make him look unprofessional. Sungjong is clutching the weapon on his hip.

“Is that a gun?” The bartender has noticed Sungjong's hand. “No weapons in here. Give it to me.”

Sungjong shakes his head. “My gun always stays with me.”

“Not in here it doesn't,” says the bartender. She towers above Sungjong in her heels. “Give it to me. You can have it back when you leave.”

“My gun –” Sungjong starts.

“Sungjong!” Sungyeol snarls, startling everybody.

Dongwoo doesn't say anything, because he knows that telling Sungyeol to calm down, in front of a dressing room full of girls, when he's feeling exposed and angry and helpless, would have the exact opposite effect. But he shifts closer so that he is leaning against Sungyeol's side, so that Sungyeol can feel him; so that Dongwoo is supporting some of the weight of Sungyeol's body.

Sungjong seems to have recognised the gravity of Sungyeol's mood, too: he hands over the gun without another word.

They wait in silence. Minha emerges from the crowd of girls, slipping her arm around Sungjong's waist. Dongwoo can feel Sungyeol beginning to relax a little against his side. Woohyun returns to their group, but he refuses to look at Sungyeol.

Dongwoo counts his own breaths and thinks of his family. When this over, when Sungyeon is safe – he forces himself to think when, not if – maybe he should take his mother somewhere. She doesn't leave the house much these days. The mobility problems that plagued Dongwoo's father in the last years of his life have come back to haunt their family again, this time in his mother's hips. She needs help to go out, but Dongwoo is always busy, and his noona lives near the south coast with her husband, too far to visit often.

Maybe he should take his mother to visit noona. The air by the sea would be good for her; the heat wouldn't be dusty like it is in the city. They could drive down together, over a couple of days so it wouldn't be too tiring; they could see the ocean, eat seafood, swim and talk.

Sungyeol had once said that when Dongwoo and his mother laughed together, nobody around them could hear themselves think. Both Dongwoo and his mother had taken this as a compliment – but since Dongwoo's father died, his mother hasn't laughed much. She always smiles and smiles when Dongwoo visits; she seems to enjoy the food he brings and hearing about the neighbourhood; but she rarely laughs. It would be so good to hear her laugh again.

“Minha-yah!”

Dongwoo's thoughts are interrupted by the bartender reappearing, her arm around a girl in a white leotard. By Dongwoo's side, Sungyeol immediatelystiffens, alert as a cat.

Minha is bringing the bartender and the girl in the leotard over: “Hyunjoo unnie says Erinunnie knows something about your Sungyeon.”

Dongwoo feels Sungyeol and Sungjong both draw in their breath at exactly the same time as he does. Woohyun takes hold of Dongwoo's hand and squeezes it, hopefully.

“What is it?” Sungyeol asks, urgent. “What did you hear?”

“This bunch of guys, they come in here a few times a month.” Erin looks nervous, glancing at Minha and the bartender, Hyunjoo. Hyunjoo still has a tight hold on Erin's shoulder, as though afraid someone might try to snatch her away. “Usually they ask for dances from me. I just can't bear to think of that poor little girl –” She breaks off, and then swallows, her eyes turning steely. “A couple of times, one of these guys wanted to pay me to meet him at this warehouse in Hongdae where they all camp out. It was money and they seemed okay to me so when he'd ask, I'd go. I was there just a few weeks ago and I overheard some of the others talking about someone named Kim Sungyeon. I forgot about it, but then I heard the girls saying you were here, and that was the name of the girl you're looking for...”

“Do you remember what they said about Sungyeon?” Sungyeol's voice is brisk and businesslike; he's back in control.

“I didn't hear much, just the name,” Erin says. “I was... otherwise occupied. But the first time I went, they wrote down the name of the street so I could find it; here –” Erin reaches inside the front of her leotard and pulls out a folded piece of paper. Sungyeol takes it, reads, then looks up and nods.

Woohyun lets out a huge sigh. Sungjong is smiling. Dongwoo turns to Erin: “Thank you. We can't thank you enough for –”

There's a sudden commotion from outside: men shouting, the sounds of furniture being knocked over. A girl comes tearing into the dressing room, shouting, “Cops! Cops!”

“Come on!” Minha seizes Sungjong's arm and takes off, dragging him towards the back of the dressing room. “This way, come on!”

Pulling a frightened-looking Woohyun by the hand, Dongwoo dashes after them. The sounds of shouting in the main room of the club are getting louder. Around them, the girls have been thrown into a frenzy, panicking, covering themselves up in robes and towels; some of them running the same way Minha is pulling Sungjong; some running back towards the club, maybe looking for friends or men they know; others are stuffing money and possessions frantically into bags. A wild glance back and Dongwoo sees Hyunjoo the bartender striding back through the curtain into the main club.

Sungyeol is right behind Dongwoo, barely breaking more than a brisk walking speed on his long legs, but his face is serious. Anyone caught will definitely be arrested, and the police may realise who Sungyeol is. They will lose hours, even days, of precious time ~~,~~ \--time Sungyeon doesn't have.

At the back of the dressing room ~~,~~ some of the girls have thrown open a fire-escape, previously half-hidden by hanging sequinned dresses, and are pouring out of it ~~and~~ into the Seoul night. Minha pushes Sungjong through and steps back to make sure Dongwoo, Woohyun and Sungyeol have made it out as well.

“Aren't you coming?” Woohyun asks.

Minha shakes her head. “I need to help Hyunjoo unnie.”

“But everyone's running –”

Sungjong shakes his head. “Most of the girls just come here a few nights a week to dance. But the ones who run this place, they've been doing it for years. They know how to deal with this.”

“Exactly,” Minha says, with a smile and a slight toss of her hair. “We know how to deal.”

From back inside the club, a voice crackles over what sounds like a loudspeaker: “This is the police! Everybody down on your hands and knees! I repeat, this is the police!”

“We have to go,” Sungyeol says grimly.

“Good luck.” Minha pecks Sungjong on the lips, and disappears back inside the fire escape ~~,~~ behind more groups of fleeing girls.

They rush out of the alleyway and take a turn that leads into a busy shopping street. People are flowing in and out of the stores, buying street food, drinking bubble tea. Snatches of music from the open doors of buildings blend with the shouting and laughing of shoppers, so the crowd seems to move under a cloud-cover of sound. They slow to a fast walk, but it's still not safe enough, Dongwoo thinks, glancing behind them. “We should get off the street for a while,” he says.

“In there.” Woohyun is pointing to a noraebang just ahead.

They climb the steps and slip inside behind a large group of chattering foreigners. A free room is right ahead and they fall inside; Sungjong closes the door carefully behind them, and they collapse onto the benches, panting.

“Well,” Sungyeol says after a minute, “While we're here, I can show you all my Hyuna.” He puts one hand on his hip and mimes swivelling it to an imaginary tune. “Bubble bubble bubble pop –”

Dongwoo laughs weakly, but Woohyun is glowering. “What?” Sungyeol asks, but Woohyun just shakes his head and turns away: “Sungjong.”

“Hyung.” Sungjong is sprawled over half a bench, thin chest heaving. There's lipstick on his chin.

“The address,” Woohyun says. “Do you think –?”

“That it's the right place? I have no idea,” Sungjong says. “But I do know the girls wouldn't have given it to us if they didn't think so.”

“You and Hoya can go check it out,” Sungyeol says, serious again, and Sungjong nods. “Dongwoo, the car.”

“It's probably too risky to get it now,” Dongwoo says.

Sungyeol nods. “We'll leave it. You can get it...” He hesitates.

“When there's time,” Dongwoo finishes, trying to be positive.

Sungyeol nods. “When there's time.” He glances over at Woohyun, as if to say, “Satisfied?” but Woohyun isn't looking.

There will be time, Dongwoo thinks. When – _when_ – Sungyeon is safe. He needs that car, needs to take his mother down to the south coast. It would be good for her to swim in the sea; the water holds up your body and lets you exercise without putting strain on your joints, very good for people who have pain walking...

“Damn it!” Sungjong says suddenly, and kicks the bench he's lying on. “I left my gun – damn it!”

 

*

 

Sungyeon.

Sungyeon, Sungyeon, Sungyeon.

Sunggyu can hear his sister's name in the beats of his heart. He's pacing up and down Sungyeol's kitchen, steps in rhythm with her name pounding in his ears. Sungyeon Sungyeon Sungyeon.

He can still hear her. God, he can still hear her terrified voice: “Oppa? Oppa.”

Sunggyu will kill them. When they find out who has done this, who has dared lay a finger on his little sister, he will destroy them all, single-handedly; none of them will be able to get away.

The urge to _hurt_ burns through him, a terrible rage that howls Sungyeon's name. That man on the phone – _I'll rip both his eyes out of his head, carve his organs out of his body while he's still alive. And that other one, that low-life who dared to call Sungyeon a bitch, I'll pull all his teeth out, then cut off his tongue and choke him with it. All of them, anyone who's hurt her – I'll hunt them down no matter where they try to hide. I'll scorch the earth underneath them so that even the last trace of them is removed, as though they had never existed._ Sungyeon, Sungyeon, Sungyeon.

“Oppa? Oppa.”

_It's okay. It's okay, baby, oppa's here. It's okay, it's okay, Sungyeon, baby..._

Hoya is sitting at the kitchen table, lips pursed. He doesn't understand. Myungsoo is curled up on the couch. Myungsoo didn't notice anyone following them; Myungsoo didn't protect her and now she's gone. Sungyeon.

_It's okay. Sungyeon._

It's not Myungsoo's fault. If he'd been there to meet Sungyeon, this wouldn't have happened, and Myungsoo had wanted to leave to meet her; he'd tried to insist. But he hadn't. He hadn't because of Sunggyu.

A sudden wave of self-loathing hits, so hard Sunggyu staggers, clutching the kitchen table. Hoya looks up in concern but Sunggyu just shakes his head at him.

Because you were selfish, something inside him hisses, because you were horny and you cared more about getting your rocks off than whether Myungsoo made it to the school on time, Sungyeon is gone.

“Oppa? Oppa.”

_I'm sorry. Sungyeon, I'm sorry, so sorry._

They must get her back. If they don't, if she's hurt, if anything happens to her at all, Sunggyu will never forgive himself.

If anything happens to her? _Something's already happened to her,_ the voice in his head sneers. _You always swore she'd never be involved in your life, and now she is, now she's more than involved. They could do anything to her. You blamed Myungsoo for what you did, you hurt him. You hurt Myungsoo and now they're going to hurt Sungyeon. You hurt both of th_ _em, all b_ _ecause you didn't keep your mouth shut around your contacts. Because you got complacent, you got cocky. You thought you were invulnerable. If something happens you'll never forgive yourself? You already know you'll never forgive yourself right now, you piece of shit._

“Oppa?”

The voice in his head is right. Sunggyu despises himself completely and utterly.

 

Sunggyu's mother didn't get around to arranging anything before she gave birth to Sungyeon. When she arrived, they didn't even have a crib. Sunggyu wasn't sure whether the one he had slept in as an infant had gotten old or broken orbeen lost over the years, or if they'd just never owned one at all.

As soon as his mother arrived home from the hospital with Sungyeon, she and Sunggyu's father began yet another argument. They had been having arguments for months now: Sunggyu's father accusing Sunggyu's mother of sleeping with someone else and calling her a slut; Sunggyu's mother accusing Sunggyu's father of wasting all the family's money on his gambling; Sunggyu's father shouting the same things about her drinking right back.

Sunggyu's mother left Sungyeon lying on the sofa while she and his father were in the kitchen, screaming curse words at each other. Sunggyu went over and sat beside the new baby. She was swaddled in a white hospital blanket, had a face as red as a raspberry and, to his surprise, lots of fluffy black hair. Her eyes were closed, and eleven-year-old Sunggyu wondered whether maybe, like a kitten, she couldn't open them yet at all.

For the first few days she was home, Sungyeon wouldn't stop crying. She howled and bawled and screamed until the whole house rang with the sound of her distress. She wouldn't stop because she was starving. She'd been fed at the hospital, but she hadn't had anything since then. Sunggyu tried to remind his mother to feed her, but she would just flap her hand at him and mutter, “Later, later.”

Sunggyu carried his sister round the house, still slightly terrified he might drop her, bouncing her and singing the way he'd seen parents do to their babies at the gates of his school, or on television. It didn't help much. After two days, he even considered, in desperation, leaving Sungyeon – although she wasn't even Sungyeon then; she didn't have a name – at the church near their home. The church had a special sign by the gates and a box near the door; Sunggyu had heard that it was a place where people could leave their babies if they couldn't look after him. The babies would be adopted and might even go to rich foreign families. He thought about it as he tried clumsily to give his sister a bath in the sink. How would he get to the door of the church, lie her down and get away before anyone heard, when she cried so loudly? If anyone saw him taking her there, would they confront him or tell him to stop?

He didn't end up taking her to the church, of course. He realised that he could feed the baby, until his mother finally remembered that this was something she was supposed to do. Somehow, thankfully, there was money in his mother's purse, enough to buy formula milk for his sister and a bottle to feed her. He was able to mix the powder formula and boiling water easily enough, and settled the baby on his knee. As soon as he guided the bottle to her mouth, her screwed-up eyes widened, and she stopped crying. For a few seconds she just looked startled, as though she couldn't believe she was actually being fed after all this time – then she began sucking down the milk greedily. She drank it all in less then five minutes. Sunggyu wondered if she would want more, but she seemed satisfied. She let out a very big yawn, and dropped off to sleep.

She looked peaceful for the first time since their mother had brought her home. Sunggyu felt immensely proud of himself.

“I'll take care of you,” he told her, settling her more comfortably on his knee. “I'm your oppa and I'll take care of you. You don't have to worry any more.”

 

Sungyeol bursts through the flat door at nearly midnight, followed by an angry-looking Sungjong, a concerned Dongwoo and a silent Woohyun. Sunggyu is across the room beside them in a second. “Didyou find anything? Did they tell you anything about Sungyeon?”

“We have an address,” Sungyeol says, and Sunggyu lets out a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding. “An address of what?” he asks.

“One of the dancers told us about a warehouse in Hongdae. Sungyeon might be there,” Dongwoo tells him gently, putting his hand on Sunggyu's arm. Sunggyu is grateful for the support; he feels like he might crumble into dust.

“When do we go?” Hoya asks. “Are we going to go to Hongdae now?”

“No,” Sungyeol says slowly. “Tomorrow –”

“Tomorrow?” Sunggyu looks up. “What do you mean, tomorrow?”

“Listen,” Sungyeol says, “Everyone is exhausted. And I don't know Hongdae well. I obviously don't know this warehouse at all. It's night time, it'll be dark, it's too dangerous to go tonight. We go early tomorrow morning, try and surprise them.”

The thought of Sungyeon locked up in some filthy warehouse all night, surrounded by God only knows what types of sick criminals, makes Sunggyu feel nauseous. He shakes his head.

Sungyeol is looking at him, eyes big. “You know we only have one chance to get this right, Sunggyu.”

Sungyeol is right. Sunggyu hates him for being right.

Sungyeol doesn't wait for Sunggyu to acknowledge his plan or to nod; he spares Sunggyu that. He turns to the others. “Hoya, Sungjong. I want you to go to Hongdae and find this warehouse, scout it out. Check if Sungyeon is really there, check entrances and exits, see if you can get a number for people we'll be dealing with.”

Hoya nods. Sungjong sighs. “I hope you're okay with me covering you without my gun.”

“What happened to your gun?” Hoya asks, surprised.

“It got taken off him by a really tall bartender,” says Dongwoo, with a very faint smile.

Sungjong rolls his eyes.

“It's okay,” Hoya says. “I mean, I trust you.”

Sungjong nods.

“We'll call as soon as we have anything,” Hoya says as they leave. He looks over and catches Sunggyu's eye. “Promise.” Sunggyu trusts Hoya, trusts Sungjong, but he can't bring himself to feel hopeful.

As soon as they leave, Sungyeol sinks into his chair. “I need some coffee,” he mumbles.

“You want coffee?” Woohyun asks scornfully.

“I want,” Sungyeol says, sounding angry, “To stay awake so I can actually focus on Sungyeon and the situation we're in here.”

Woohyun looks abashed. He turns away, scowling.

“I'll make coffee,” Dongwoo says, trying to smile. He heads over the coffee machine and starts spooning beans into it. They rattle horribly loudly against the plastic. “Myungsoo, coffee?” he calls over to the sofa, where Myungsoo is still curled up. Myungsoo makes a soft noise that Sunggyu can't interpret.

Sunggyu lowers himself into a chair opposite Sungyeol. Sungyeol lays his cell phone on the table top between them and meets Sunggyu's eyes. It's an acknowledgement, and also an apology that Sungyeol can't do more, that they have to wait until it's light.

 

When Sungyeol's phone rings, it makes them all jump. Sunggyu leaps straight out of his chair so it totters on its two back legs and crashes to the ground. Sungyeol answers, immediately switching the phone to loudspeaker. “Sungjong?”

“We're across the street from the warehouse.” Sungjong's voice is soft and low. “There have been guys going in and out ever since we got here. Definitely a headquarters for somebody.”

“Is she there?” Sunggyu begs, gripping the table. He feels someone, probably Dongwoo, put an arm gently around his back, but it doesn't help. “Jong, is Sungyeon there?”

“She's here.”

“Fuck.” Sunggyu drops his forehead onto the table. “Sungjong, have you seen her? Where is she? Is she okay?”

“Hoya climbed up onto some garagesopposite the warehouse,” Sungjong says. “He said she's in one of the rooms upstairs; tied to a pipe or something, with someguys guarding her.”

“Is she okay? Hoya saw her? Let me speak to him!”

There's a rustling and then Hoya's voice says, “I saw her, hyung. She's okay.”

“She's okay?” Sunggyu repeats desperately. The words are physically painful.

“I promise, hyung,” Hoya says. “She's okay. She's okay.”

“Oh God.” Sunggyu hadn't expected to break down. He thought he was too angry, too scared to do that. But suddenly all he wants to do is bury his face in his hands and sob.

There's a sudden wail behind him, and a clatter. Sunggyu turns around, blinking, just in time to almost be bowled over by Myungsoo, rushing at him and throwing his arms around Sunggyu's neck. Next second ~~,~~ he's crying into Sunggyu's shoulder, gripping Sunggyu's hair fiercely with one hand, his whole body shaking violently. He chokes something out against the skin of Sunggyu's neck, and Sunggyu realises that he's sobbing, “She's okay, she's okay, she's okay” over and over again. And finally, finally, Sunggyu breaks down.

She's okay. _She's okay_. But she's still in that God-forsaken warehouse; she must be so scared, wondering what's going to happen, wondering why Sunggyu hasn’t come for her – and Sunggyu can't tell her that he's coming, that everything, everything is for her. But she's okay.

And Myungsoo. Myungsoo. Sunggyu had been half-wondering if Myungsoo would ever let Sunggyu touch him again – if he even deserved to touch Myungsoo again – but now, suddenly too exhausted to stand any more, too exhausted to think, he just slumps against the younger man and cries.

Myungsoo is combing his fingers through Sunggyu's hair. Sunggyu can feel Dongwoo hugging him from behind. He presses his face even harder into Myungsoo's shoulder.

He's aware of Sungyeol telling Hoya and Sungjong to keep on scouting the warehouse. Hoya sounds choked, too, as he hangs up the phone.

“I'm sorry, hyung.” Sunggyu becomes aware that Myungsoo is talking again, talking to him this time. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

“It's not your fault, Myungsoo,” Woohyun says, but Myungsoo ignores him, just goes on repeating, “I'm sorry...”

“It's not.” Sunggyu pushes Myungsoo away gently, scrubbing his hand over his face. He feels so weak, he might just blow away. “It's not... not your fault, Myungsoo.” The faces of the others around him blur in and out of focus: Myungsoo's tear-stained and pale; Dongwoo and Woohyun both looking worried, both crying as well; Sungyeol as serious as the black windows of Seoul at night.

“It's my fault,” Sunggyu says quietly.

“Hyung,” Myungsoo weeps, arms back around his neck, trying to embrace him again, but that cold self-loathing is back ~~,~~ and Sunggyu pulls away.

“Can we not talk about this being anyone's fault?” Dongwoo says, and Woohyun murmurs in agreement.

But it is my fault. My fault my fault my fault my fault my fault.

“Everyone needs to get some sleep,” Sungyeol says, businesslike. “Tomorrow will be...” He pauses, searches for a word, then settles on, “Long.”

Sunggyu feels tired. Dead tired. He still doesn't think he can sleep.

“Myungsoo, take him to bed,” Woohyun is saying. Myungsoo reaches out nervously, and this time Sunggyu allows Myungsoo to take his hand. Myungsoo leads him back into the tiny box room and to the futon. Still sure he won't be able to sleep, Sunggyu flops down onto it anyway, not wanting to stand any more. He closes his eyes, welcoming the purple-and-red-spotted darkness behind his eyelids.

A few moments later, he feels the futon shift as Myungsoo lies down beside him, and Myungsoo's arms slip around his waist. Sunggyu lies very still. Myungsoo's lips brush against the back of his neck.

“I love you, hyung,” Myungsoo whispers.

Sunggyu screws up his eyes, and doesn't answer.

 

He falls asleep, but wakes up within a few hours, still dressed, head pounding and mouth tasting rotten. Myungsoo is sleeping deeply beside him.

He closes his eyes, tries to fall back to sleep – really tries – but all he can hear when his eyes are shut is Sungyeon's frightened voice.

After a while, he gives up on trying to sleep, gets up and goes into the main room. Dongwoo is snoring on the sofa. Sungjong is sitting right on the edge of one of the kitchen chairs, head bowed and hands clasped in his lap. He looks up when Sunggyu enters. “Hyung.”

“Hey.” Sunggyu's voice comes out as a painful rasp.

“Can't sleep?” Sungjong asks, lightly.

Sunggyu shakes his head, sits down at the table beside Sungjong.

The only light in the room comes from the digital clock on the stove. It makes Sungjong's large eyes look even bigger, like an insect's.

“You too?” Sunggyu asks, after a moment.

“I've been praying,” Sungjong says. His voice is barely louder than a whisper. Dongwoo turns over on the sofa.

“Oh.” When he was a boy, Sunggyu's mother, in one of her sober moments, had told him about God. She had gone to a religious school as a girl and knew a lot about the Bible. Sunggyu had prayed sometimes when he was younger, but over the years, as it had begun to seem more and more apparent that the only way things changed was when Sunggyu made them change, he had given up.

“Does – does it help?” he asks.

“Of course,” says Sungjong. He turns in his chair to look directly at Sunggyu. “I don't understand a lot of things or why they happen. But I pray and I remind myself that I don't have to; God has a plan, and maybe one day He will reveal it to me – or maybe He won't. It's not important. What matters is that I trust in Him, and I gain strength.”

Sunggyu nods. He finds himself remembering how he had felt as a boy, lying in bed at night, praying to the God his mother had been so sure of: praying that she would give up her bottles of soju, or that his father would stop staying out all night at casinos, or that the fighting at home would stop – or maybe just that there'd be detergent to wash his school uniform so the other kids wouldn't laugh at him for being dirty, or that his father wouldn't gamble away all their money so they could buy food for dinner that week. He suddenly wants, desperately, to believe that someone other than him – someone more competent than him – could be watching over Sungyeon tonight, keeping her safe.

He doesn't say anything, but Sungjong seems to understand. He touches the back of Sunggyu's hand. “Would you like to pray with me, hyung?”

Sunggyu nods again.

Sungjong smiles softly, laces his fingers with Sunggyu's, and closes his eyes. After a moment he begins to quietlyspeak: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters.”

Sunggyu draws in a deep, long breath. He closes his eyes too, focusing on Sungjong's small voice whispering in the darkness.

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me...”

 

*

 

Woohyun heads into the bedroom as soon as Sunggyu and Myungsoo disappear, without saying a word. Sungyeol wishes Dongwoo a good night and leaves him to sleep on the sofa. When he gets into the bedroom, Woohyun is peeling his shirt off. He's switched on the lamp, and the light makes his chest glow, leaves darkness pooled in the dips of his collar bones.

“Still mad at me?” Sungyeol asks.

“Why are you always so childish?” Woohyun shoots back.

“I'm childish? You're the one who's been sulking all night.”

Woohyun doesn't answer. He turns half away, the soft profile of his nose and lips standing out against the Seoul skyline visible through the window.

“Why did you take me to that club?” Woohyun asks softly.

“I didn't know I was supposed to pretend I was celibate until I met you,” Sungyeol says. He hangs his leather jacket on the back of the door.

For a few moments it's quiet, quiet enough to hear a car start in the street below. Then Woohyun says, “Is that why you keep me around, then? To relax you?”

“Oh, stop,” Sungyeol scoffs.

“I guess it's something, though. Knowing I relax you better than a prostitute –”

“Stop!” This time it's an order.

Woohyun falls obediently silent. Sungyeol toes off his boots and kicks his jeans off his legs, furious with Woohyun, with himself, with both of them for acting like this when Sungyeon is being held in a cold empty warehouse. He rips off his t-shirt and throws it into a corner.

Next moment, he feels a hand on his shoulder. Woohyun steps in front of him, pushing him down to sit on their bed. Sungyeol closes his eyes for a moment, wondering if he should tell Woohyun to stop, because he already knows exactly what's going on and why Woohyun is doing this. But by the time he opens his eyes again, Woohyun is already on his knees in front of Sungyeol, pushing Sungyeol's legs apart, his mouth wet, the plump lower lip shining in the bedroom light, and Sungyeol doesn't say anything.

Woohyun sucks him off hard, so hard he gags several times on Sungyeol's cock. It makes Sungyeol's whole body rigid with pleasure, the kind you almost pull away from because it's almost too intense. He keeps a light, firm grip on the back of Woohyun's head, trying to kid himself he's in control of the situation.

Woohyun takes him all the way in again, to the back of his throat, runs his tongue up the vein on the underside of Sungyeol's cock and around the head, and Sungyeol comes, far quicker than is dignified. Woohyun swallows everything, like he always does, and then looks up at Sungyeol, damp bangs hanging in big, big eyes.

 _I don't want you there tomorrow_ , Sungyeol thinks. Woohyun shouldn't be part of this; he can handle himself well enough in a scrap, but tomorrow... Tomorrow, in Sungyeol's mind, is vicious and bloody and completely unpredictable. Probably everyone will get hurt. Probably Woohyun will get hurt.

But they will definitely be outnumbered and they need everyone. And Sungyeol is honest enough with himself – as his body is still quivering with pleasure; as Woohyun gazes up at him defiantly, angrily, desperately, adoringly – to realise how much he's come to depend on Woohyun at his side; to realise he might not be able to do this without Woohyun.

“Come here,” he says, his voice getting stuck in his throat. He needs something, before tomorrow – not to relax, as Minha would believe, but to know that someone is really here with him in the wild chaos of the city. To know that Woohyun is really here.

Woohyun surges up instantly, and Sungyeol drags him onto the bed, covering his own body with Woohyun's. In spite of everything, Woohyun kisses as though Sungyeol is something precious, and it makes Sungyeol's heart punch hard against his ribs.

They spend a long time rocking against each other, clinging to each other. It's comforting, Sungyeol thinks, to feel that Woohyun needs this as keenly as he does.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning they fall asleep, but Sungyeol is awake again before daybreak. Woohyun is still sleeping, his head on Sungyeol's shoulder and one arm around Sungyeol's waist. Outside, the sky that was clear last night has become heavy with storm clouds. Sungyeol can feel the city holding its breath.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took me so long to post this. It took a long time to write, and if I'm honest I'm not totally satisfied with this chapter. This part of the story required a plot that I had to make up (none of this is in the mv) and I'm not very confident about dealing with plot while keeping my writing to a standard I'm happy with. Still, the next chapter is the last, and it will be the chapter dealing with the events of the 'Back' mv, so hopefully it should be easier for me!
> 
> Again, huge thanks to my beta Sophie for pointing out all my mistakes and telling me when my massive run-on sentences are impossible to read, and to everyone who was so sweet about the first chapter of this fic; I love you all and your praise made me so so happy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic has risen from the dead for Easter and is finally complete \o/ If anyone still cared, I'm so sorry for making you wait so long. Once again thank you so much for all the kind comments and kudos left in the past. 
> 
> Massive thank you to my betas Sophie and Alicia, to Jamie for coming up with the 'myunggyu get distracted' plot line, and everyone who was enthusiastic about this AU and me writing this fic.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. (This is the chapter that deals with the events of the mv; nobody gets hurt worse than they do in the mv but writing about this stuff made it seem quite a bit more graphic because I had to describe pain etc.) Dangerous and threatening situations including a teenage girl being placed in these kinds of sitautions, language, minor character death, mentions of child abuse, mentions of sex. 
> 
> And I'd just like to remind everybody that this is an AU and not about a real gang, it bears no resemblance to any real gang culture at all.

  
  


By the early hours of the morning, the clouds have begun to grow heavier, grey and purple coloured like day-old bruises. Skyscrapers and apartment blocks blur into the sky. The warehouse looms in front of them like a massive tomb.  
  
There's almost always some kind of sound in the city: people talking or shouting, car engines, police sirens, planes taking off, the rumble of trains, barking dogs, screaming children. But right now, about halfway between 6 and 6:30am on a Saturday, Sungyeol can't hear anything at all.  
  
A faint breeze stirs and blows dust across the courtyard in front of the warehouse. Sungyeol pauses, feels the pavement underneath his feet, tries to centre himself. It doesn't really work – he's too aware of the others around him. Dongwoo, his hair pulled back in a small ponytail to keep it out of his eyes, his skateboard dangling from one hand as though he's just going off on his daily rounds of their neighbourhood. Beside Sungyeol, Myungsoo, who emerged from his bedroom that morning with a look of grim determination, more silent than Sungyeol has ever known him to be. Hoya, strong-jawed and stoic. At Sungyeol's back, Sungjong – Sungyeol doesn't have to turn around to feel the ferocity coming off him in waves. Woohyun with his hood up, turning his head from side to side as though his neck is stiff from sleeping against Sungyeol's chest. (Sungyeol tries to ignore the voice in his head still telling him Woohyun shouldn't be here.) Just in front of Sungyeol, Sunggyu, looking up at the warehouse, scanning the windows as though he hopes he might catch a glimpse of Sungyeon. And then, at one of the windows, a face – not Sungyeon’s, but a man's face, pale and cat-like, stares back.  
  
Sunggyu flinches, and Sungyeol hears Hoya curse softly.  
  
Sungyeol shakes himself. “Let's go,” he says. For half a second, nobody moves, and Sungyeol repeats, “Let's go, now!”

 

He knows they're outnumbered as soon as they enter the warehouse. Sungyeol counts off the men quickly, _seven eight nine ten_ , all in red hooded sweatshirts, and an eleventh perched on top of an old car – possibly their leader? Eleven against seven, it could be worse so far.  
  
One of their guys rushes Sunggyu, who is already pulling ahead of Sungyeol, and Sunggyu – who may look like an easy target but can handle himself in a fight far better than most people expect – kicks the guy so hard in the chest that he topples over backwards, winded.  
  
Myungsoo – scrappy little Myungsoo, who did martial arts at school for years – is right behind Sunggyu, just as he always is, hitting another man so hard in the face that Sungyeol hears the crack of cartilage from his nose. A third man comes at Sungyeol himself, and he gets a punch to the side of his head in early – the advantage of long arms – seizes him by the hair and slams his face against the wall.  
  
Behind him, there's a shattering sound of breaking glass. He looks up to find Dongwoo rugby-tackling a man with a bat. Myungsoo is scrambling over the top of the old car, kicking another guy in the face almost like a superhero; Sungjong, always resourceful, is beating a guy with what looks like an old umbrella. For a moment Sungyeol can't see Sunggyu anywhere but – there he is, already heading towards a door at the back of the warehouse, which swings open as though someone – probably the guy who was sitting on the car when they came in – just ran through it.  
  
“Stick together!” Sungyeol orders, marching after Sunggyu. “Don't get split up; stick together!”  
  
Myungsoo is already heading after Sunggyu through the door. Hoya and Dongwoo, their opponents both down, hurry over to Sungyeol. Sungyeol looks around for the others and pauses anxiously – Woohyun and another guy are still locked together, struggling – but Sungjong is striding across the warehouse towards them, wielding the umbrella like a sword, calling over his shoulder, “Go help Sunggyu hyung, we'll catch up!”  
  
For just a second, Sungyeol still hesitates.  
  
“Go!” Sungjong shouts again. Sungyeol has just enough time to see him bring the umbrella down very hard on the head of Woohyun's opponent before Hoya grabs both his arms and drags him after Dongwoo through the door.  
  
The stairs on the other side are narrow and damp, and Sungyeol almost slips on the first one. Hoya steadies him, saying: “They're all right, they'll catch up, we have to stay with Sunggyu hyung and Myungsoo.”  
  
Sungyeol shakes himself. He can't, can't, let his feelings about Woohyun get in the way of saving Sungyeon. Sungyeon is the most important thing.  
  
“I know,” he tells Hoya. “Let's go, let's go.”  
  
They dash up the stairs and find Dongwoo looking between several long passages. “I don't know which one they went down,” he says helplessly.  
Sungyeol curses.  
  
“On your right!” Hoya suddenly barges past him and straight into a man bursting out of a doorway down the right-hand passage. He takes out the man with fairly little effort, but two other guys appears at the end of the corridor. Hoya is immediately running down the passage, knocking one of them into a pile of old wooden boxes that collapse with a rotten crunch. Dongwoo grabs Sungyeol and pulls him after Hoya, gabbling, “They must be down here. We have to stay with Hoya, down here –”  
  
But they don't find Sunggyu and Myungsoo down the corridor, just more men in the same red hooded sweatshirts, appearing from all angles to meet them. Sungyeol knocks the first one to come at him out against a pillar, but then there are suddenly more. He's just about aware of Dongwoo tripping one guy with his skateboard before he's surrounded by three or four of them with heavy wooden clubs. There's a crack, and pain explodes up Sungyeol's spine and into his head, making him stagger forward, collapsing onto his knees. His ears are ringing but he struggles to his feet – they have to find Sunggyu and Myungsoo, they have to find Sungyeon – only to be clubbed again in the knee. He falls back against the wall behind him, his leg momentarily useless, and the man towers over him, raising the club again.  
  
With a burst of adrenaline Sungyeol surges forward, pushing the guy off balance – his whole body is burning with pain now – raises one arm – with the effort of lifting a boulder – and punches the guy in the face. For a second he's free, but then there are two more in front of him, crowding him back against the wall, going for his chest and legs with their clubs. Weapons, he thinks; he should have thought to find something they could use as weapons. But it's too late now. He's covering his head with his arms to protect it from the blows, squatting down, ducking away from the clubs.

 

*

 

Sunggyu heads up the stairs and through the warehouse like a man possessed, barely stopping as he checks the rooms he comes across are empty; not even pausing when anyone finds him. A fist he doesn't remember deciding to make, a swing of his arm he's barely aware of, and then they're down and he's moving onward, numb with adrenaline, seeing Sungyeon's face behind his eyelids whenever he blinks.  
  
Something – instinct, fate, God? – leads him to the back of the top floor of the warehouse, a half-open door and the sound of voices: “What did you do? Tell me, you little bitch!”  
Sunggyu freezes. There's a clanging sound, as though someone has kicked a pipe. “How did they know where to find us unless you told them, huh? How did you contact them? Answer me!”  
  
Sunggyu throws the door open. Three or four guys are huddled in one corner. All their heads swivel round, eyes wide, as Sunggyu strides into the room. Crouched on the floor between them, tied to what looks like a metal pole, face smeared with dirt and still in her school uniform, eyes red and obviously terrified but alive, unharmed, is Sungyeon.  
  
The relief is so intense it almost leaves Sunggyu breathless. She's okay – Sungyeon, his baby, she's okay. Her tired eyes light recognise him too, and light up.  
  
One of the guys charges at Sunggyu, but Sunggyu knocks him down almost without thinking. The other two guys are struggling to untie Sungyeon and tugging her to her feet. They're dragging her towards another door that looks like it leads to more stairs. Sungyeon's clear voice rings out over their cursing and the muffled clangs and thumps from the rest of the warehouse: “Sunggyu oppa!”  
  
Sunggyu isn't afraid any more; he only feels white hot rage. There's only three guys; three guys is nothing; he can take three guys. He could take three hundred right now. He could tear them all to shreds. He'll kill both of these bastards for even going near a hair on his sister's head – and then Sungyeon – _Sungyeon_ – can come home...  
  
He doesn't notice the sound of feet behind him until Sungyeon cries, “Oppa, look out!” Half a second before the blow comes, he realises he's forgotten the door behind him, that anyone could still come through it. Then, pain: a blow to his skull like a bomb being dropped; an explosion of agony. He staggers, feeling as though his brain is rocking in his head; the pain is so intense he can feel himself crumpling to the ground, starting to pass out. He fights it – he has to stay awake, he has to get to Sungyeon...  
  
Through the ringing in his ears, he hears Sungyeon screaming, “Oppa! Oppa!” He hits the concrete floor so hard it knocks the breath out of him. He's seeing double, triple, of everything. He sees infinite numbers of Sungyeons being dragged away, still screaming for him.  
  
He's almost unconscious by the time she vanishes up the stairs. He's only vaguely aware of more footsteps running up behind him before everything goes dark.

 

*

 

Woohyun surges round a corner and down a corridor, half blinded by his sweat-damp hair hanging in his eyes. There are two guys behind him, the heavy sound of their boots drumming through the warehouse. Woohyun's body burns and he staggers on the uneven floor of the warehouse, stumbling against the dusty wall – and then they have him, there are hands grabbing his clothes and pulling him up, punches raining on his ribs and stomach like shrapnel. Another punch lands right on his jaw and the metallic taste of blood spurts into his mouth. He stumbles forward onto his knees but they pull him up again. There are kicks to his stomach and kidneys, explosions of pain worse than anything he's ever experienced. Instinctively he rolls forward and manages to jerk away from the hands gripping his sweatshirt; he crawls on all fours until he can struggle to his feet and then he's running again, his breath bubbling in the blood between his teeth.

 

*

 

Hoya's father was never shy about doling out beatings, and as he got crazier it only got worse. Hoya's been hit with a shoe, a chair, even a DVD player. Unfortunately pain isn't something you can get used to. Every time hurts like the first time.  
  
The guy he's grappling with seizes his head roughly, and when Hoya shoves him away, the guy rips a handful of hair out. The guy comes back, claws at his face, going for Hoya's eyes. Hoya manages to pull his head free before the guy can get a good enough grip to do any real damage, but the guy's fingernails scrapes the skin off all down his cheek. The guy tries to punch Hoya in the stomach and Hoya manages to get a knee in between the guy's legs, making him fall over, grunting.  
  
Hoya spins around and finds Sungyeol, on his knees between two men, both of them going at him with their clubs. Hoya tackles one of them from behind, without thinking. The man swings his club wildly, hitting Hoya's back, but Hoya manages to get hold of his head and knock him out against the wall. He turns round to find Sungyeol still on his knees, his winded gasps for breath horribly loud. Hoya makes to go for the second guy but before he can, Dongwoo appears out of nowhere, swinging his skateboard like a battle axe, striking the man's head with a hideous cracking sound. The man falls straight over backwards like a tree that's been cut down, unconscious.  
  
The pain all over his body suddenly feels more intense in the silence. Hoya’s hand goes to his cheek. His fingers come away smeared with blood and he grimaces.  
  
Dongwoo is bending over, trying to help Sungyeol to his feet. Sungyeol's face is already bruising. Blood wells up at a split in his lip. He's shaking his head as though trying to clear it, clutching his ribs, still breathing heavily.  
  
“Where's Woohyun?” is the first thing Sungyeol manages to say. “Where’s Sunggyu and –?”  
  
Before he can finish, there's a sudden commotion above them, and a voice that is unmistakably Sungyeon's cries out, “Sunggyu oppa!”  
  
Sungyeol is back to himself immediately, standing up straight and brushing away the blood that has run down his chin. “This way!” he orders, starting to run back the way they had come. Dongwoo immediately starts running too. Hoya hesitates for a moment, suddenly unsure if his body can take much more of this. There were so many more guys here than even he'd expected, and now they've all been separated they're even more vulnerable.  
  
Above him, Sungyeon's voice rings out again, “Oppa! Oppa!”, and Hoya starts to run.

 

*

 

On Thursday, Myungsoo had walked Sungyeon to school, just like he always did.  
  
Sungyeon had been in a good mood because it was nearly the end of the week. She was planning to go shopping with her friends on Saturday. She was dancing about as Myungsoo carried her bag, telling him about a cardigan she wanted to buy.  
  
“You don't need a cardigan, Sungyeon-ah,” Myungsoo had said. “It's summer.”  
  
Sungyeon rolled her eyes at him. She had taken to doing that recently when she thought one of them was being particularly dense. “I can wear it in the _evenings_ , oppa,” she said.  
  
Myungsoo just smiled at her. He was in a good mood himself – Sunggyu was coming back from his trip tomorrow. It had been two weeks, and Myungsoo was starting to feel the distance like an itch on his skin that no scratching could ease. He needed Sunggyu's hands on him again, the weight of Sunggyu's arms, Sunggyu's lazy voice in his ear as they lay in bed together.  
  
“Will you take me to meet up with Jihoon on Sunday, Myungsoo oppa?” Sungyeon asked, snapping him out his thoughts.  
  
“Don't forget your brother's coming back, honey,” Myungsoo reminded her. “He'll want to see you.”  
  
Sungyeon whined. “I can see him on Friday evening.”  
  
“What about your homework?”  
  
“I don't like it when Sunggyu oppa goes away,” Sungyeon said, ignoring his question. “You try to act like my dad and it's weird.”  
  
Myungsoo agreed with her, privately. It was a bit weird. He often barely felt older than Sungyeon himself. But Sunggyu trusted him to take care of her – trusted all of them, but especially Myungsoo, because Myungsoo more than any of the others was part of Sunggyu's and Sungyeon's family. And Myungsoo never ever wanted to give Sunggyu any reason not to trust him.  
  
He swung her bag at her playfully, making her yelp and jump out of the way. 

“Sungyeon-ah.”  
  
“I can do it at Sungyeol oppa's while I talk with Sunggyu oppa,” she said. “But you have to help me with my art assignment, okay?”  
  
Myungsoo nodded. “Okay.”  
  
They were silent for a few moments, and then Sungyeon came and fell into step close beside Myungsoo. He smiled down at her – but he barely had to look down these days; she was growing so tall.  
  
Sungyeon smiled back at him. “Did you get to watch the latest episode of 'Attack on Titan' yet, oppa?”  
  
Manga and anime was something that Myungsoo and Sungyeon could talk about for hours. Back when Myungsoo and Sunggyu were first starting their relationship – before it was even really a relationship – Myungsoo would sometimes end up spending his time just chatting with Sungyeon about whatever they were both reading and watching, too shy to speak to Sunggyu much at all. He noticed one day that Sunggyu would always get very quiet when they talked like that, and watch them with a soft look in his eyes.  
  
“Yeah, I saw it yesterday,” he told her.  
  
“Good because I've been waiting to discuss it with you! What do you think about –?” Sungyeon began rattling off the developments of the latest episode, and they discussed it happily for the remainder of the last blocks to the school.  
  
When they arrived at the school gates, Myungsoo hung Sungyeon's bag carefully on her back for her. She grinned at him. “See you tonight, Myungsoo oppa.”  
  
“Have a good day at school, honey.”  
  
Sungyeon was already hurrying into the school yard, where some of her friends were waiting. She turned back to wave at him with both hands, beaming.  
  
Myungsoo watched her until she was inside the school and then set off home. One more day. One more day and then Sunggyu would be back, and they'd all be together again.  
In the afternoon Myungsoo went to pick Sungyeon up from school and walked her home. He stayed while she did her homework and made sure she ate dinner. Her mother, not too drunk for once, sat at the table with them, asking Myungsoo – who she knew as 'Sunggyu's friend' – whether he was planning to go to college.  
  
Myungsoo made some generally unsure noises, which she seemed to accept. “Sunggyu's doing so well,” she rambled, pouring more soju. Myungsoo glanced rather anxiously at Sungyeon, but she barely seemed to notice. After all, this had been Sungyeon's life ever since she was a baby.  
  
“He's worked so hard.” Sunggyu's mother sounded proud, almost ordinary. “Putting himself through school by working all this time.” She didn't appear to think at all about why Sunggyu would need to support himself. Myungsoo nodded, letting her voice wash over him, no longer really listening. Of course, Sunggyu wasn't really a student, but there was no need for his mother, who slept most of the day and only got up to drink or buy more booze, to know that. Myungsoo knew Sunggyu had finally almost finished saving for himself and Sungyeon to get their own place to live, and after that they wouldn't need to deal with lying to his mother any more.  
  
He left Sungyeon at about eight in the evening. She reminded him again that the next day she was walking to school with Jihoon, and Myungsoo was glad – it meant he would definitely be at home when Sunggyu arrived. The temperature had cooled down to a pleasant warmth. Myungsoo walked the few blocks back to Sungyeol's slowly, thinking about Sunggyu. A group of boys playing football in the pitch near to Sungyeol's block waved to him.  
  
Myungsoo let himself into the flat on the top floor, wanting nothing more than to sleep and for it to be Friday so Sunggyu could come back. Sungjong and Woohyun teased him gently, telling him he should be careful or he'd pine away before tomorrow, but Myungsoo just smiled at them and slipped away to take a shower. He washed and got out without lingering, without touching himself, wanting to wait for Sunggyu. The futon in his room had lost the scent of Sunggyu in the last two weeks, but tonight Myungsoo didn't care – Sunggyu would be back again soon. He fell asleep happy, his stomach warm with butterflies.

 

The next day, Friday, was perfect – and then it all went so wrong. Myungsoo had rushed round the corner to Sungyeon's school, sweaty and still half-giddy from being with Sunggyu again, preparing to apologise for being late, and found an empty school yard. Sungyeon wasn't there. 

Bewildered, Myungsoo swung around, searching the street, wondering if she might have gone back inside the school to wait, and that was when he spotted the van. Two guys with tattoos and shaved heads were dragging something in through the black doors – a person? A girl? A girl – Sungyeon.  
  
The doors of the van slammed and Myungsoo's stomach lurched with terrifying understanding. Someone was taking Sungyeon. _Someone was taking Sungyeon._ The horror was so intense that for a second he was frozen. Then the van's engine revved, and it hit him all over again: someone was taking Sungyeon. He took off running, sprinting down the road. The van was pulling away from the curb. He reached it just as it drew out into the road. His hand was only inches away – but then the van was speeding up. Myungsoo heard a voice yelling, “No!” and didn't even realise it was his own. He was so focused on running, on staying with the van, on Sungyeon – Sungyeon inside the van – why was she inside the van? – that he didn't even realise he'd cried out.  
  
The van was pulling away from him now. He tried to push himself faster, but the van was gathering speed, turning the corner. He may have cried out again; he didn't know. He reached the corner in time to see the van disappearing around the end of the next street. He ran even harder. He realised he was shouting Sungyeon's name. People around were stopping to stare. A car swerved around him as he charged across the road, hooting; he ignored it. He made it to the corner and found a cross-roads and the van – the van was gone.  
  
No, no, it couldn't be gone – Sungyeon – Sungyeon couldn't be gone, she couldn't be gone. Sungyeon, Sungyeon, Sungyeon.  
  
He chose the left turn randomly and rushed down it, only to be confronted with two more turnings. He rushed back to the cross-roads as if the van would re-appear; he took the right turn and found a dead end and no van, no Sungyeon. He ran back and went straight ahead this time, and this road took him out to the main road into the centre of the city. Cars, taxis, buses, bikes were all ploughing backwards and forwards like everything was okay. Myungsoo lurched, nearly collapsing.  
  
“Are you all right, dear?” An older woman was frowning at him in concern. “Don't you feel well?”  
  
Myungsoo just shook his head at her helplessly. Sungyeon was gone. He wasn't fast enough, Sungyeon was gone. How could she be gone? If he'd just been there – he wasn't there. It was his fault; he wasn't there.  
  
Myungsoo ran the entire distance back to Sungyeol's. He was almost blind with sweat and panic but his feet knew the route instinctively. A stitch tore at his side, making his breaths come in painful little gasps. He had to get the others – he had to – Sunggyu. Sunggyu trusted him. Sunggyu trusted him and Myungsoo wasn't there and Sungyeon was gone. He was close to tears as he pounded up the stairs to Sungyeol's flat. He barely made it through the door before he fell to his knees.

Ever since, Myungsoo has felt a fire alarm ringing in his head: Sungyeon, Sungyeon, Sungyeon. The fear is so intense he feels like he's suffocating. And Sunggyu… Sunggyu blames him. He'd said later he didn't. But when Myungsoo first got back, when he first managed to pant out what had happened – the words tasting black and poisonous in his mouth, as though saying them made it real – Sunggyu had blamed him.  
  
Sunggyu was right to blame him, Myungsoo thinks. Sunggyu had trusted Myungsoo to take care of Sungyeon, the most precious thing in the world, and Myungsoo hadn't been there. He'd failed.  
  
He had to make this right – or better; maybe it could never be right, but it could be better. As soon as they reached the warehouse he felt cold and detached. He had to find Sungyeon. Maybe Sunggyu would never forgive him, maybe Sungyeon never would either, but at least she would be safe.

 

He gets to the room leading out onto the roof about a minute after Sunggyu does. He heard the noises and Sungyeon shouting – _Sungyeon, Sungyeon, Sungyeon_ – but by the time he makes it there, there's nothing but an open door leading out to the outdoor stairs, and Sunggyu – oh God, Sunggyu – sprawled on the floor.  
  
The fear for Sungyeon is momentarily overtaken by fear for Sunggyu. Myungsoo rushes to the older man's side, dropping to his knees. “Hyung?” he pants, clutching Sunggyu's shoulder and shaking him. “Hyung!”  
  
Sunggyu is slipping in and out of unconsciousness. Myungsoo clutches his arm, once again overcome with the feeling that all of this is his fault. Sungyeon, and now Sunggyu as well.  
He's brought back to reality by a faint groan from Sunggyu. At first Myungsoo thinks his hyung is in pain – but when he leans over to try and help, Sunggyu groans again and Myungsoo realises he's talking: “Outside...”  
  
Myungsoo looks up. Sunggyu is staring towards the door that leads to the roof.  
  
“Sungyeon?” he asks.  
  
Sunggyu's eyes plead with him. Trusting him, Myungsoo realises, almost with wonder, even after all that's happened. Trusting him to get Sungyeon when Sunggyu can't.  
  
Myungsoo kisses Sunggyu quickly on the cheek, scrambles to his feet and heads towards the outdoor steps.

 

There are four of them: the bald man who was sitting on the abandoned car downstairs, a man with a thin moustache and intricate sleeves of tattoos down both his arms, and two skinny guys in heavy boots and lots of jewellery. They all turn when Myungsoo comes hurtling up onto the roof, their faces curling into sneers when they see there's only one of him against four of them.  
  
The man with the moustache is gripping Sungyeon tightly by the shoulders, and Myungsoo's heart kicks painfully behind his ribs – both with relief that she seems physically okay, and fear that she's still in the hands of these men who might do God-knows-what to her.  
  
“Oppa!” Sungyeon cries.  
  
The man with the moustache laughs, and Myungsoo instantly recognises it as the same laugh they heard during that terrible phone call after Sungyeon was taken.  
  
“You're very brave coming here when you're outnumbered, _oppa_ ,” the man sneers. His eyes flick to the three other guys at his side. “Get rid of him.”  
  
The two guys with the jewellery laugh trollishly, cracking their knuckles, and the bald man grins.  
  
Myungsoo gets the first punch in, as soon as the bald man steps up to him, a hard swipe across the side of the man's jaw that gives off a grimly satisfying crack. But the man in front of him barely responds to being struck and grabs Myungsoo by the shoulders. He punches Myungsoo squarely in the chest and Myungsoo is on the ground, winded, before he even fully realises what's happening.  
  
“Myungsoo oppa!” he hears Sungyeon crying out. He goes to get back to his feet – he has to help her; Sunggyu is trusting him to help her – but, still breathless both from the hit to his chest and the effort of fighting all this time, he's too slow. One of the other guys barely even jogs over, brings one heavy boot up and kicks Myungsoo back down. His head strikes the concrete floor underneath him hard enough to make his eyes blur, and his teeth bite through the tip of his tongue, filling his mouth with blood.  
  
Hands grip the back of his jacket, pulling him up just enough for one of those heavy boots to kick him again, knocking him back onto the floor.  
  
“No! Stop it!” Sungyeon is screaming somewhere behind him. Again the man behind Myungsoo pulls him up, and this time the guy in front punches him in the mouth. More blood bubbles from his lips and nose, painting the ground with dark red droplets.  
  
“Myungsoo oppa!”  
  
He has to get up, get back on his feet. He's failed at so much in so few days – he can't fail at this too.  
  
“Sungyeon!” he shouts, struggling upright on willpower alone and charging straight for her and the man still holding her shoulders.  
  
“Oppa!” she screams, and seconds later one of those boots swings out of nowhere and trips him. Myungsoo sprawls to his knees again, one ankle twisting so far, so sharply, that he hears the bones break. Still he tries to get to his feet again, in spite of his useless, agonising ankle and the thick metallic blood filling his mouth, but the bald man comes at him swinging a huge plank of wood. Myungsoo knows, in the second before the plank hits him, that he's failed again. Then the blow to his spine sends him toppling back to the wet concrete ground.  
  
He sprawls there, stunned, struggling to breathe through the blood in his nose and mouth, his ankle throbbing so painfully he can feel it throughout his body. He can hear Sungyeon crying – no words now, just loud frightened sobs.  
  
That terrible laugh from the phone rings in his ears again. “Very brave, _Myungsoo oppa_ , and very very stupid,” says the moustached man mockingly, somewhere above him. “Now it'll be easy enough to pick off all your stupid friends too, and –”  
  
His voice breaks off suddenly. Myungsoo hears noises behind him and manages to roll over slightly, to see Sungyeol heading up the stairs to the roof, leading the others.

 

*

 

When Sunggyu opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is light that seems to flicker. 

For a moment, he thinks he's in Sungyeon's bedroom, with those flashing fairy lights that hang over her bed. Sungyeon's bedroom is the nicest room in their house: Sunggyu helped her decorate it himself so he's very sure of this. They filled it with photographs Sungyeon liked, pictures she had cut out from magazines, pretty bits of wrapping paper and illustrated postcards to cover the mould and cracks in the walls. Sunggyu balanced on Sungyeon's bed to hang fairy lights, Sungyeon standing below him and bossily telling him exactly where she wanted the lights to fall. They argued a few times but it was worth it in the end. It was worth it every time Sunggyu went into Sungyeon's room and found her doing homework, or reading, or napping, in her own pretty, safe little haven. Sometimes she forgot to turn the fairy lights off before she fell asleep or went out, and Sunggyu would see them flickering under the door.  
  
_Sungyeon... you forgot to turn your lights off again...  
_  
Someone is shaking his shoulder. “Hyung? Hyung!”  
  
It's Dongwoo, bending over him. Sunggyu blinks again, clearing his eyes. The changing light is from the door to the roof swinging open and closed, open and closed in the wind.  
  
“Hyung! Are you all right? Did you see Sungyeon? Where is she?” Dongwoo is asking.  
  
Everything comes back in a rush and Sunggyu manages to sit up, with Dongwoo supporting him. “She was here,” he says faintly. His mouth felt very dry. “They took her up to the roof... someone came up behind me and I... Myungsoo went after them...”  
  
Sungyeol's long legs appear in front of Sunggyu. He squats down and peers into Sunggyu's face. “Can you get up?”  
  
Sunggyu nods. His head and back hurt a lot but everything around him is stabilising rapidly.  
  
“Sungyeol,” he says, “Myungsoo's up there on his own.”  
  
Sungyeol nods. He stands up, and Sunggyu follows him, leaning against Dongwoo for support. Hoya is close by too, hovering, in case Sunggyu needs more help.  
  
“Where's Sungjong and Woohyun?” Sunggyu asks.  
  
“Here,” says Sungjong's voice, and the two of them appear through the door from behind them. Sungjong looks remarkably composed – one side of his lip is swollen and there are a few cuts across his face, but he still seems more like someone who's tripped over than someone who's been in a gang fight. Woohyun, on the other hand, looks wrecked, bruises blossoming across his face and dried blood all down his chin. Sunggyu notices a faint wince in Sungyeol's face when he glances at Woohyun, but Sungyeol is nothing if not practical, and right now Woohyun is still standing and they need everyone they can to support Myungsoo.  
  
“Sungyeol,” Sunggyu says again.  
  
“I know,” Sungyeol says. “How many of them are there? Did you see?”  
  
“Four.”  
  
“We go together, everyone, understand?” Sungyeol says. “Don't let them separate us again, that's when –” Again he glances, just barely, at Woohyun – “That's when people get hurt. Stay together.”  
  
Sunggyu is already heading to the door as Sungyeol finishes speaking. Sungyeon is up there, and Sunggyu is not letting her go this time – and Myungsoo, Myungsoo is up there too and he needs their help. The next second, the others catch up with him, and together they head up the stairs.

 

*

 

“Ah, the boy scouts are all here. Saves us having to look for you.”  
  
Sungyeol recognises the voice, and the face, immediately. He doesn't know the guy's name, but he remembers him as one of the seconds to the leader of the meth gang two years ago – second to the leader that Sunggyu had killed. He's holding Sungyeon by the shoulders.  
  
Sunggyu recognises him too. “I knew it was you!” he hisses. “I knew I recognised your voice! You were one of the first bastards they sent to bring meth into our neighbourhood.”  
  
The man with the moustache chuckles. “It's nice to know I make such an impression.”  
  
“That's one word for it,” Sunggyu snarls. “You're the coward that ran first as soon as I shot your boss.”  
  
The man's face darkens murderously.  
  
“Easy,” Sungyeol murmurs.  
  
Sungjong is helping Myungsoo to his feet. He seems dazed, and one foot is trailing beside him, but when Sungjong asks, “Are you okay? Can you stand?” Myungsoo nods fiercely.  
  
“We could have resolved this all nicely, without violence,” the man with the moustache says. “If you had just gone along with our simple requests. Now this poor little girl here,” he jerks his head at Sungyeon, who looks terrified, her face blotchy from crying, “Has had to witness all this.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Sunggyu spits.  
  
There's another door, back into the top floor of the warehouse, behind the man with the moustache, but that's the only escape route. There's one guy a few feet away from the others, smirking; the other two are closer together, in front of the man with the moustache and Sungyeon. Sungyeol guesses that as soon as they attack, the moustached man will try to drag Sungyeon back inside.  
  
He nudges Woohyun and glances towards the guy a few feet from the others. Woohyun nods, eyes still steely in his battered face. Dongwoo and Hoya glance over and Sungyeol catches Dongwoo's eye too, just barely nodding towards the other two guys closest to Sungyeon. Dongwoo smiles and leans forward to catch Sungjong's eye.  
  
“Sunggyu,” Sungyeol says. The older man tears his gaze away from the moustached man and Sungyeon back to Sungyeol. “Go get your sister,” Sungyeol tells him.  
  
Then they all spring forward.

 

One of the reasons Sungyeol took on his mantle as leader of the gang and their neighbourhood, one of the reasons he's been able to achieve what he has, is planning. Careful, careful planning. From the outside of the warehouse, this was almost impossible, but up here on the roof, with a good view of everything, Sungyeol is deadly.  
  
Woohyun leaps forward at Sungyeol's side and between them, they take down the man furthest from Sungyeon. Dongwoo, Hoya and Sungjong all make for the other two protecting the moustached man – one goes down after getting Dongwoo's skateboard to the head, and Hoya and Sungjong tackle the other together. Sunggyu heads between all of them and straight for Sungyeon.  
  
Myungsoo, unable to balance with one useless leg, tries to follow but topples to his knees. Sungyeol glances back at him, but Myungsoo's gaze tells him, _I'm fine, get Sungyeon, get Sungyeon._  
  
The moustached man heads straight back inside the warehouse, just as Sungyeol had predicted he would, dragging Sungyeon by the hair. Leaving Woohyun to finish knocking out their target, Sungyeol heads straight after them and Sunggyu. Sungjong is there too. “Hoya's got everything else under control,” he assures Sungyeol, and they head inside.  
  
Sunggyu is circling the moustached man and Sungyeon on the tips of his toes, like a lion waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. He's already managed to herd the man away from the only other exit out of this room and back towards the door to the roof, where Sungyeol and Sungjong are waiting to keep him heading back outside.  
  
Now the man's face slips, betraying glimmers of fear. Sungyeol is unsurprised. Coward.  
  
“There's nowhere for you to go,” Sungyeol says. “We can resolve all this nicely, without violence.”  
  
The moustached man's eyes are darting wildly, furiously. Suddenly he reaches round to the back of his jeans and pulls something – a gun – he's holding a gun and pointing it at all three of them. Fuck, Sungyeol didn't notice anything to suggest the guy had a gun. Sungyeon squeals in terror as the man brandishes the weapon in front of them.  
  
“You're right,” the man says. His voice is shaky, but still arrogant. He tucks one hand under Sungyeon's chin to hold her still and clicks the safety catch off the weapon. “We can resolve this without violence. If you all back off, I won't blow you all to hell.”  
  
“Okay,” Sungyeol says, hands up, backing away, “Okay, okay.” Sungjong and Sunggyu are doing the same.  
  
The man waves the gun between the three of them. “That's right,” he smirks. “You all just keep – argh!”  
  
For a second Sungyeol doesn't realise what's happened, and then he sees Sungyeon biting as hard as she can into the hand that was holding her chin. The moustached man is yelling, and the gun falls straight out of his grasp across the floor. Sungjong leaps forward and seizes it, pointing it straight at the moustached man.  
  
When the moustached man notices the gun in Sungjong's hand, he immediately lets go of Sungyeon altogether and puts his hands over his head. “I surrender!” he squeaks. “I surrender!”  
  
Sungjong looks over at Sunggyu, who is staring desperately at Sungyeon. “Sunggyu?” he asks. The question in his voice is obvious, although he doesn't want to spell it out in front of Sungyeon – _do you want to be the one to get rid of this guy?_  
  
Sunggyu looks over at the guy, and then back at Sungyeon. He hesitates for a second, but then shakes his head.  
  
Sungyeol glances at Sungjong, who nods.  
  
“Sungyeon?” Sungjong says, gently.  
  
Sungyeon, who has been cowering near the wall, looks up. “Yes, Sungjong oppa?” she says in a small voice.  
  
“Your oppa's been going crazy worrying about you. Why don't you –”  
  
Before Sungjong has even finished speaking, Sungyeon is sprinting across the room and into her brother's arms. She's sobbing before she even reaches him and Sunggyu catches her up in his arms, holding her closer than close, cradling her head against his chest.  
  
Sungyeol reaches over and puts a hand on Sunggyu's shoulder. He can feel Sunggyu shaking, and when the older man looks up his eyes are red and wet. When he looks at Sungyeol, though, he looks lighter than he has in days. He doesn’t say anything, but Sungyeol understands.  
  
He gestures towards the door back out to the roof, and Sunggyu gently wraps one arm around Sungyeon's waist and starts to guide her outside.  
  
Sungyeol and Sungjong share a final look before Sungyeol ushers Sunggyu and Sungyeon outside, back into the fresh air. He closes the door firmly behind them, to hide the gunshots from Sungyeon as much as he can.

 

Fortunately, Sungyeon barely seems to notice the sounds from inside the warehouse, or when Sungjong steps outside a few moments later, nodding to Sungyeol. As soon as she looks up from Sunggyu's chest, she pulls away and rushes over to Myungsoo, who is kneeling on the ground with Dongwoo tending to him. Sunggyu hurries after her as though he can't bear to be away from her for one second.  
  
“Myungsoo oppa!” Sungyeon kneels beside him, Sunggyu behind her.  
  
“Sungyeon –” Myungsoo says, and Sungyeon hugs him fiercely. Dongwoo, looking as though he might cry, pats her back and pats Myungsoo's back.  
  
“Are you alright, Myungsoo oppa?” Sungyeon asks when she pulls away.  
  
“I'm fine. Are you alright?”  
  
“But your ankle, oppa!”  
  
“It's just a broken bone, honey, I'll be fine. I'm so sorry you had to see it, I –” Myungsoo's voice breaks. “I'm so sorry I couldn’t –”  
  
“You held them all off until we could get up here,” Sungyeol says. “We couldn't have done this without you.”  
  
Sunggyu nods. He doesn't say anything, but he reaches round Sungyeon and takes Myungsoo's hand. Myungsoo's eyelashes are spiky with tears, but he controls himself in front of Sungyeon.  
  
“But –” Sungyeon is still upset. She looks around. “Woohyun oppa, what happened to your face? Sungyeol oppa? Dongwoo oppa? You're all hurt.”  
  
“It's okay, Sungyeon,” Sunggyu says, wrapping his free arm around her. “It's okay.”  
  
“But everyone's hurt because of me!”  
  
“No, it's because of me,” Sunggyu says, and everyone looks at him. “I put you in danger because I was careless and I trusted someone I shouldn't have, and I put everyone else in danger too. It's not your fault, baby.”  
  
Sungyeon's eyes fill with tears again. “I don't understand, oppa.”  
  
“I'll explain everything,” Sunggyu tells her. “God, I should have told you all this before, but I just wanted to protect you. I'll tell you everything when we're home again, I promise.”  
  
Sungyeon nods. “I want to go home,” she says, sounding so very young.  
  
Sungyeol feels Woohyun's fingers against his. He knows without looking they are Woohyun's fingers; he recognises the shape of them, the warmth, the softness of Woohyun's skin compared to Sungyeol's own. He tangles their hands together and grips Woohyun hard.  
  
Sunggyu is embracing Sungyeon again. “We can go home, we can go home,” he soothes.  
  
Myungsoo strokes Sungyeon's back and Sunggyu covers Myungsoo's hand with one of his. Woohyun squeezes Sungyeol's fingers.

 

Because Dongwoo's car is still parked somewhere near the strip club, they all pile into Sungjong's. Dongwoo, Hoya, Myungsoo, and Sunggyu with Sungyeon on his lap, are all squashed into the back, and Sungyeol and Woohyun share the passenger's seat next to Sungjong.  
  
In the streets, people are going about their days just as they always do: walking briskly, heading into shops and offices, waiting impatiently for buses. It's still only about 11am, Sungyeol realises. The clouds are gathering, growing heavier. It will rain soon, and the heat will no longer be so oppressive.  
  
Woohyun rests his head at Sungyeol's collarbone, just tucked underneath his chin. Sungyeol holds him round the waist. When he grips too tightly, Woohyun murmurs with pain and he has to let go, apologising softly. You shouldn't have been there, he thinks, yet again, but he knows, as he presses his face into Woohyun's hair, that without Woohyun at his side he might not have been strong enough to see all this through.  
  
In the back of the car, Myungsoo is leaning against Sunggyu's shoulder and Sungyeon is cuddled in her brother's arms.  
  
“Oppa?” she says, after a while.  
  
“Hmm?” Sunggyu asks.  
  
“I don't hate you,” Sungyeon says quietly.  
  
“What are you talking about?” Sunggyu asks her.  
  
“Before you left,” Sungyeon says, sounding ashamed. “I was g-getting ready to go out with Jihoon, and you messed up my hair... I said I hated you. But I don't –”  
  
Sunggyu pulls her back into his arms and tucks her head into the crook of his neck. “Oh God, I know,” he says. “I know. I know.”

 

“I think Myungsoo needs to go to hospital,” Woohyun tells Sungyeol, when they're all back at the apartment – which is, almost bafflingly but also unsurprisingly, just as it was when they left it this morning, as though nothing’s happened at all.  
  
Sungyeon has taken a shower – with Dongwoo positioned outside to make her feel safe – and now she's sitting on the couch in a pair of Woohyun's jeans and a t-shirt because those are the smallest clothes they have. Dongwoo is cleaning a few little cuts on her face, apologising every time the anti-septic stings her. Sunggyu is behind her like a bodyguard, one hand gently resting on her back. Sungyeol glances over into the living room.  
  
On the other sofa, Myungsoo is curled up, his soft face pale and set with pain. Woohyun had helped him to shower after Sungyeon was finished, but even with the blood cleaned away there are visible bruises and scratches on most of his exposed skin. Hoya is sitting beside him, holding a bag of frozen French fries against Myungsoo's ankle, which by now is swollen up and purple-green.  
  
“I could barely get his shoe off without hurting him,” Woohyun is saying. “Sungjong’s offered to take him to the ER. I know it’s not ideal; it’ll bring attention; but something’s definitely broken…”  
  
Woohyun’s face is still almost as swollen as Myungsoo's ankle, but he hasn't bothered to do anything to treat himself. He insisted on tending to everyone else first. Sungyeol himself has several band-aids on his face that Woohyun carefully stuck there after cleaning his cuts.  
  
Sungyeol nods. Sungjong himself looks barely ruffled after a wash. “Sungjong can say Myungsoo was in a fight or something if they ask about his other injuries. If it's just him and Myungsoo we should be fine. We don't want that bone setting wrongly or it could get much worse.”  
  
Woohyun nods. He stretches up and kisses Sungyeol softly on the mouth. It hurts a little, because of Sungyeol's split lip, but Sungyeol appreciates it all the same; he can't imagine anything that could make him stop appreciating Woohyun's touch.  
  
“I love you,” Woohyun says – and then he's gone, back to fuss over Myungsoo, before Sungyeol's even fully taken in what Woohyun has just said.

 

After Myungsoo has headed off to hospital – again reassuring Sungyeon he'll be fine – Dongwoo helps Sunggyu tuck Sungyeon up in Myungsoo's little room. She must have barely slept in days, and she's clearly exhausted. Dongwoo stays with her until she falls asleep, to reassure her.  
  
Woohyun finally heads to the bathroom to clean up and treat his own injuries. Sungyeol feels slightly more relaxed now he doesn't have to look at dried blood all over Woohyun's face.  
He steals a cigarette from Hoya and heads to the big kitchen windows to smoke it. The neighbourhood below looks peaceful. It's finally started to rain. Now that Sungyeon is safe, Sungyeol can think about how relieved he is they've also protected the neighbourhood from any more hard drugs.  
  
He's about halfway through his cigarette when Sunggyu joins him. “Can I?” he asks, holding his hand out.  
  
“Get one from Hoya yourself,” Sungyeol says, but gives Sunggyu the cigarette anyway even before Hoya yells, “No you don't, you scroungers, buy your own!”  
  
They pass the cigarette backwards and forwards a few times, staring at out at the rain. It falls in strict parallel lines, drumming on the baked roofs of the buildings.  
  
“If you want to get out of this, out of this neighbourhood, after this,” Sungyeol says eventually, “I'll understand. We'll all understand.”  
  
Sunggyu nods. He takes a drag of the cigarette and blows the smoke out of the window into the rain. “I know. I will talk to Sungyeon about it, but I think she'll want to stay.” He takes another drag. “This neighbourhood is our home. Her school is here. All you guys are here... This is where we both belong.”  
  
Sungyeol nods. He takes the cigarette back from Sunggyu.  
  
“I was thinking, though,” Sunggyu says. “The flat downstairs, underneath this one –”  
  
Sungyeol nods. There used to be an elderly woman living there, but recently she seems to have gone, either moved or passed away. The property is up for sale, but predictably there’s been little interest in a neighbourhood like this.  
  
“We've needed to move away from our parents for a while,” Sunggyu says. “And it would make me feel safer if we were always near to you.”  
  
Sungyeol nudges Sunggyu gently with his shoulder. “That flat's pretty small,” he says. “But it should be plenty of room for two people.”  
  
“Three,” Sunggyu says.  
  
“Three?”  
  
“Myungsoo, too.”  
  
Sungyeol smiles. “Of course,” he says. “Myungsoo too.”

 

When Woohyun steps out of the shower he looks much better. The dried blood is all gone from his face, and even some of the bruises are starting to go down.  
  
Sungyeol brings him the frozen French fries for the swelling. “They're not that cold any more,” he apologies.  
  
“I don't think they'll do that much by now anyway,” Woohyun says. He's lying on their shared bed in just his t-shirt and underwear. “I'm already blown up like a puffer fish.” He presses the French fries against his cheek. “Feels good, though.”  
  
Sungyeol sits on the bed beside him. It's early evening. Myungsoo is back from the hospital, foot in plaster and balancing on crutches, and he's gone off somewhere to talk with Sunggyu as they couldn't use the bedroom. Dongwoo, Hoya and Sungjong are sleeping, and Sungyeon is safe in Myungsoo's room.  
  
“I wish you hadn't been there,” Sungyeol says softly.  
  
“Hmm?” Woohyun looks up at him.  
  
“I wish you hadn't been there,” Sungyeol repeats. Now he's started talking, everything seems to come spilling out. “You could have made something of yourself. You're not like me, you – you should have –”  
  
Woohyun shakes his head. “This is what I want,” he says.  
  
“It's not, though, is it?” Sungyeol argues. “You don't want this life, you just want...” He breaks off, but manages to go on, “Want me.”  
  
“I want all of it.” Woohyun takes one of Sungyeol's hands between both of his. “I want this life, I want to be with all of the guys... and of course I want you. You know that. I love you.” The 'I love you' comes out more shyly this time, and Woohyun glances at Sungyeol under his eyelashes.  
  
“I love you, too,” Sungyeol confesses, and Woohyun's grip tightens on his hand. “That's why I don't ever want you to be hurt.” With his free hand, he touches Woohyun's bruised, swollen face.  
  
“I went into this with my eyes open,” Woohyun says. “I was willing to get hurt for Sungyeon just as much as you were. I want to be with you and I want everything that comes with that.”  
  
“I wish –” Sungyeol starts, and then trails off, because of course he doesn't wish that Woohyun didn't want to be with him. He just wishes there could be a way for them to have this without Woohyun being put in danger.  
  
“Besides, you know what you're doing, right?” Woohyun says. His voice has turned ever so slightly teasing, and he runs his fingers lightly across Sungyeol's knuckles. “You can protect me.” He gives Sungyeol a half smile.  
  
Sungyeol shakes his head, but he's smiling now. The worry is still there in the back of his mind, that Woohyun will end up getting hurt – seriously hurt – because of him. He doesn't know if anything Woohyun could say would make that disappear. Then again, Sungyeon was in serious danger, and now she's safe. Thanks to all of them, she's safe.  
  
“I still think you're crazy,” Sungyeol tells Woohyun, but he's smiling.  
  
Woohyun laughs. “I'm just crazy about you,” he says, and they both crack up.  
  
“That was a terrible line,” Sungyeol tells him.  
  
“You're a liar,” Woohyun says. “That was a great line. Great enough that I should be getting laid right now.”  
  
Sungyeol laughs again, and then Woohyun's lips are soft under his, Woohyun's body warm and comforting, Woohyun's arms around him like coming home.

 

The next morning, it's still raining, and only a few people are visible on the pavement from Sungyeol's window. The soccer pitch with the chain-link fence is empty, the streets dark grey and wet. Woohyun's sleeping body is pale in the morning light, Jureumie curled up on the pillow beside his head.  
  
Sungyeol takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, feeling the mood of the city. He doesn't sense any danger at all.

 

 

Fin


End file.
